Memories of War
by Hypnobarb
Summary: The end of the war changed everything.  Friends were lost, rebuilding began, and love was found.  This is a post Deathly Hallows story, featuring HGSS pairing.
1. Chapter 1

This story is in the post-Deathly Hallows universe. However, the author picks and chooses which aspects of canon will be respected. The characters and universe were created and owned by JKR who generously allows us to play with them.

Thank you to Annie Talbot for critiquing this chapter.

---------------------------------

January, 1999

The room was stark, windowless, and poorly lit. There was something about the concrete block walls that screamed of institution and prison. It didn't help that the walls were painted gray, the tiles on the floor black with gray speckles, and the solid wood furniture utilitarian and uninspired, designed to withstand rough use and charmed to be transfiguration-proof. After all, no one wanted detainees of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to turn a chair into a weapon, assuming the detainee somehow got his hands on a wand. The surface of the table was gouged and pitted as well as discoloured with ancient water rings from cups of sour smelling coffee or overbrewed tea. The door was closed, ostensibly to provide privacy to the prisoner. The young woman waved a wand as she recited the words of a privacy spell in a clear voice that turned silent to any listeners once the spell was completed.

"Minerva asked me to give you this," she said, as she held out the envelope.

The tall man in black ceased his pacing and turned to look at her. His hair was longer now, reaching just past his shoulders. There was gray mixed in with the black at the temples, unusual in a wizard only forty years old. The frock coat he wore fit him loosely. He had always been thin, but now he was just a few pounds away from emaciation. It made the lines of his face stark. His nose, which in the best of times might have been called Romanesque, was a narrow beak in his face. The lines at his eyes, mouth, and forehead were deep. He was an unattractive man made more so by stress and hard living.

He looked at the envelope and immediately recognised the handwriting. His right hand twitched for a moment, as if he were about to reach out and accept it.

"I do not want it," he said coldly, his eyes narrowing with carefully contained anger.

"You might not want it now, but perhaps you will later," she answered.

There was a knock on the door, a courtesy tap and no more. The door opened and an Auror stuck his head inside. He and his team had been responsible for the despised prisoner's security during his trial.

"The crowd outside has thinned out," said Auror McMasters. "The press is still there and will probably camp out all night if necessary to try and get a statement from you. If you are agreeable, in about an hour we should be able to get you outside the Ministry and Portkey you away from here."

"Very well," the man in black answered. His hair fell away from his face as he looked up at the taller man in his Auror's uniform. "McMasters?" His jaw worked as if he were debating whether or not to speak.

"Yes?"

"Thank you." The words were short, brusque.

"You're welcome."

McMasters nodded and stepped back, closing the door.

The woman sat down on one of the two wooden chairs at the table. It was uncomfortable. The room was chilly and she felt the dampness right through her robes. Her tea had long since gone cold.

She still held the envelope in her hand.

"Would you object if I held on to this for you?" she asked.

"I do not care what you do with it," he answered, returning to his pacing.

The envelope went back into the pocket of her robes. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

"I know they've arranged for you to go to a safe house for the duration, but you have an alternative," she said.

"Not if I care to stay alive," he snorted with derision.

"There's a place in Canada, in British Columbia. I went and checked it out. It's a cabin with amenities, about five miles from the nearest Muggle town. It's in a heavily wooded area in the mountains, not readily accessible as well as completely Unplottable and shielded from magical detection".

I'll admit my experience is limited," she continued, "but the wards are the strongest I've ever experienced. They may even be stronger than Hogwarts. He did that for you."

"I couldn't have got in without one of the two Portkeys he left behind." She paused for a moment, hoping he would respond to the last part. He didn't, so she continued. "I understand you know how to drive a car. I obtained a Land Rover for you and stocked the house with plenty of food. There's clothing for you there. If you go, I'll get your books and possessions to you in a series of trips. Minerva saved everything after the Aurors went through it. If you want to work, I'll get you the materials for your laboratory and stock you with ingredients. There are also identity papers for you, and a bank account. The amount should see you through for forty or fifty years."

He continued pacing, not bothering to look at her.

"If you will allow, I will be your Secret Keeper," she added quietly.

He stopped pacing.

"Why would you do that?" he demanded, black eyes flashing.

"Because I want to. Because you deserve far better than what you've got or you're going to get. Because you need it until it is safe for you to live your life on your own terms."

"You would put yourself at that kind of risk? They might come after you so they can get to me."

"I'll be living at Hogwarts. They can't get to me there." She shook her head and laughed bitterly. "As far as the general public is concerned, I'm a living saint. I can do no wrong. They already think I've gone a bit round the bend helping you, but saints are allowed to do odd things."

She rose from the chair and crossed over to where he stood, leaning against the concrete block wall, his arms crossed against his chest. She reached out and gently touched his arm. He flinched at the unaccustomed touch.

"You can't live in Great Britain for at least a few years. It won't be safe even after all this."

"I do not need you to tell me that," he scoffed.

"Go and look at it," she encouraged. "Stay for a few weeks. If you don't like it, get word to me that you are coming back and I'll get in touch with McMasters about moving you to the safe house."

He seemed to be listening, but she knew the final stumbling block had to be overcome.

"Please don't turn this down because he arranged it for you," she said in a near whisper.

He looked at her intensely, black eyes like wells of darkness.

"If you have any doubts at all, you have my permission to look. This offer is made in complete sincerity. No hidden agendas, and I honestly don't think I have any manipulations behind it."

"The heritage of your House is showing," he sneered.

"Go ahead," she replied; her eyes open wide in invitation.

He looked at her. He required no wand for this. "_Legilimens_," he murmured.

He looked deep. She blocked nothing, just as she had promised. He looked until he was surprised with what he saw and satisfied with his own conclusions. He released his hold on her mind and she stumbled back. He reached out a hand to steady her. She caught her balance and then moved back to the chair, plopping down ungracefully, and taking a deep drink of the tepid tea.

"Your intent to do the right thing is astonishing," he observed.

"Will you do it?"

He hesitated for only a moment.

"Yes."

The woman heaved a sigh of relief and closed her eyes. When she opened them, he was sitting in the chair across from her with the table in between them. He put his hands around his untouched mug of tea, perhaps seeking a bit of warmth where there was none. She searched in her pocket and found a second envelope. She held it out to him.

He looked at the envelope. He recognized this handwriting as well. It was her neatly rounded cursive; familiar to him from reading hundreds of feet of essays written in that hand from the time she was eleven.

"This has the information about the bank account, identity papers, and most of what I think you'll need to get started. When you get to the house, you'll find a safe. I put everything in there. The password is in this envelope, but you should change it as soon as you can."

He reached out and took the envelope, staring at it for a moment.

"When I get there, what is to prevent me from striking out on my own?"

"Nothing," she replied. "You're an extraordinarily resourceful wizard and a true survivor. If you choose to vanish completely, you could do it. But you are famous and your face and name are known in the western wizarding world. You won't be able to live under your own name and with your own face for a long time without being discovered. However, if it is what you choose, I will respect that. I can't guarantee no one will come looking for you."

"You can hardly guarantee that now."

"I can guarantee your location will be a secret. As I said, the land and cabin are Unplottable, made so by the most powerful wizard of his generation and a few others."

He looked up at the ceiling, dingy and dark.

"I will try it for a month," he said decisively. "You may come in a month. Bring as many of my things as you can. If I decide to stay, I would like to have them." He gave a little snort. "If I decide to leave, I will want some of my things." He looked at her again. "I will give you the courtesy of knowing my choice."

"Thank you," she replied. "I will confess that I would worry if you were simply gone and I did not know if you were dead or alive."

He snorted again.

"If you are going to be my Secret Keeper, we should do the ritual now before the Aurors return. I am currently wandless, so we will need to use the modified ritual and conduct the full one when I next see you."

The woman nodded and rose. He stood away from the table, allowing her to walk around him and draw the necessary sigils in the air with her wand. She whispered magical words, words of power. At the proper moment, they said in unison:

"So mote it be."

A gleam of gold surrounded both of them and then faded. The spell was in place.

She held out a small blue ball, a child's toy.

"Here is the Portkey." She told him the password. He grimaced.

"How like him," he remarked.

There was another tap on the door. This time, the door opened wide. Standing at the doorway were McMasters and four other Aurors whose names she didn't know.

"We're ready for you now, sir," said McMasters.

"There is a small change in plans," he replied. "I will not be going to the safe house. As soon as we are outside of the wards, I will Portkey to a location outside of Great Britain. I will not require your services beyond that."

McMasters gave him a concerned look.

"You realise we cannot provide for your security if you leave our custody. This is doubly so if you leave Britain," said McMasters.

"Other arrangements have been made. I prefer it this way, and rest assured, my survival skills are more than adequate."

"It's your skin," said McMasters, shaking his head. "If you are absolutely certain?"

"I am."

"Then follow us," he said.

The two of them stepped out of the holding room into the brighter light of the hallway of the Ministry of Magic. The Aurors formed a ring around them, wands at the ready. They moved down the hallway, down five flights of stairs, through several hallways to a doorway in an area used for receiving supplies. McMasters opened the door and peered out. The way was dark, but clear. No other humans were in sight. He went through first, clearing the way for the others. The group moved outside, one by one, watching carefully for intruders. Stealthily, they moved through the night until they were across the patch of lawn surrounding the building. McMasters signalled the group to stop.

"We're outside the wards, now," he said.

McMasters turned to him, reached into his pocket and drew out a wand. He held it out, handle end towards the man in black.

"You have been found not guilty on all charges by reason of extraordinary magical circumstance and are officially released from custody. I am returning your wand to you," said McMasters with ritualistic formality.

The man reached out and accepted the wand. He held it and stared at it, caressing the dark wood gently. It was a reunion with his oldest and most trusted friend.

"Good luck, sir," said McMasters.

The man nodded in return. He took a deep breath, smelling the air of his native land for the last time for many years, perhaps for the rest of his life. He looked around and met her eyes for a moment. Hermione Granger smiled at him and nodded. He stepped away from his guards, looked up at the night sky, and whispered.

"Redeemed."

Severus Snape disappeared.

Author's note

I could not resist the urge to begin a post-Deathly Hallows story. This will not interfere with the completion of "Looking for Magic" on schedule.


	2. Chapter 2

Many thanks to Annie Talbot for her encouragement, enthusiasm, and passion for really good grammar!

-----------------------------------  
January 1999, Continued

"Earl Gray Tea," said Hermione at the doorway to the Headmistress' office. The doorway opened and she stepped onto the stairway, revolving to the top. She was deposited in the small anteroom and stepped into the office.

The room was very different from what it had been eighteen months ago. Then, it was Albus Dumbledore's office. It had been cluttered, almost every surface covered with little magical devices, whirring and swishing, ticking and tocking, flashing colours and bits of light. The colours on the walls and furniture were brighter and rather mismatched then. The furniture was more of a jumble and the stacks of parchment on the desk usually disordered.

In the brief period of time that Hermione had visited the office in the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts, it had looked quite barren. Apparently, Headmaster Snape's taste in interior décor leaned towards a much more Spartan look. Or, perhaps he had chosen to leave no hint of his personality in the space at all.

Now, the room was comfortable and subdued. There were books on the tables and the Headmistress' collection of antique teapots was displayed on the shelves near the fireplace. The colours were still reds, blues, and greens, but muted and more harmonious than the old Dumbledore discordance. The room was less garish and more organised. But then, so was Minerva McGonagall compared to Albus Dumbledore.

The Headmistress sat behind her desk, a monster of a desk previously occupied by at least a half-dozen of her predecessors. She was busy with correspondence, the nib of her quill scratching on the parchment. Minerva sat straight in the great chair, her spine barely touching the cushioned back. She looked up and over her spectacles in a manner reminiscent of Dumbledore, minus the twinkle.

"How is he, Hermione?" she asked. Minerva held out her hand, wordlessly indicating that Hermione should take one of the two chairs set at angles facing the desk.

"Pretty much as you saw him at the trial. He's very thin. But at least he looks like he's gotten some sleep," she replied.

"The man lived on strong tea, vitamin potions, and Pepper-Up potion for years," commented Minerva. "I doubt he was well fed during the months he was in Azkaban. He certainly showed little appetite during the time he was Voldemort's puppet headmaster."

"At least the Dementors are gone from Azkaban."

"One blessing, at least." Minerva stood and walked over to a tea service, sitting on a small round table underneath the window. She poured two cups and added sugar to her own, none for Hermione. She carried the cups over and placed one before Hermione and then walked behind the desk and sat. "I take it he accepted?"

"He accepted the sanctuary, but not the letter," she replied.

"I suppose that is to be expected," answered a male voice up above the two women. Albus Dumbledore, sitting on a chair in his portrait, had wakened.

"He is a proud man, Albus," said Minerva, looking wistfully at the portrait.

"He has built up a lot of anger," observed Hermione. "I think he's going to need time and space to work through it."

"It is largely my fault for that," said Dumbledore, shaking his head regretfully.

"He didn't destroy the letter," said Hermione wearily, "and he allowed me to keep it. Perhaps in a year or two, he'll be ready."

"You are probably right, Hermione," said Minerva. "Give him time." She leaned back in the chair and sighed. "I am very glad you went tonight. I should have done it and spared you, but I am not ready to face him yet." She looked up at the portrait. "It was difficult enough to look at him during the trial. I know why he did all of it, but I am having a very hard time forgiving him for it."

"My dear Minerva," said Dumbledore reassuringly, "I am the one who needs your forgiveness and does not deserve it. He did the terrible things I asked of him and, in doing so, ultimately saved all of you."

"I understand it at an intellectual level," replied Minerva, shaking her head in regret. "At an emotional level, I cannot get past the image in my mind of Severus casting the Killing Curse. I saw your remains after you fell from Astronomy Tower. It has been poor comfort knowing you were dead before you hit the ground."

"From this perspective and vantage point, such things seem so unimportant," observed Dumbledore. "From everything Hermione has told me of what Harry told her, I was near death before he cast the curse. He spared me a good deal of suffering and kept young Malfoy from turning to the Dark."

"Harry didn't understand what it meant at the time because he always looked at Professor Snape through the eyes of his prejudice. I understand now why you did it, but I sincerely wish there had been another way."

"As do I," said the Headmaster.

"With your permission, Minerva, I think I would like to retire," said Hermione. "It has been an emotionally exhausting day. If it is of any comfort, he didn't seem angry tonight. He seemed terribly weary of it all. I think he was grateful to have a way out where he could be more in control of his own life."

"Merlin knows, he had very little control over his life for better than twenty years," said Dumbledore. "He had two masters to serve and neither of us showed him any mercy for it."

"We each testified for him in our own way," said Hermione, nodding at Albus. "The statement you left behind explained so much of what happened during your last year. Snape was trapped by that Unbreakable Vow and his promises to you." She looked at Minerva. "You described his actions as Headmaster and that he protected the students as best he could from what the Carrows wanted to do to them.

"Between all of us, we kept him from being convicted," she continued. "Albus, your bequest has given him some measure of freedom and privacy. He knows it is from you and accepted it. Perhaps that is the first step towards healing."

"I hope you are right, Hermione," said Minerva wearily. "There is need for healing on all sides." She straightened up again and adjusted her spectacles. "Meanwhile, we have a school to run. How are things going with your classes?"

"Very well," replied Hermione, grateful for the change of subject. "The first and second years never knew me as a student here and aren't a problem. The third years give me a bit of grief now and then, especially the Gryffindors. Even Bill has taken away some points from his own House when they've been snotty."

"Too many of the children of my old House have taken it upon themselves to lord it over the other houses that Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger were Gryffindors," said Minerva.

"I don't know that there's anything to be done about the hero worship thing," frowned Hermione. "It's embarrassing. They've forgotten that we were just teenagers like they are. Sometimes I feel like pointing out that Ron would eat with his mouth open, Harry tried to copy my homework when he thought he could get away with it, and that I nicked potions ingredients from the storeroom. We could be as nasty and petty as anybody. I wouldn't even be here in an apprenticeship this year if the Ministry hadn't given me a dispensation to take my N.E.W.T.s without a seventh year."

"No one is ready to hear ill of the honoured dead, Hermione," said the Headmaster, "At least not yet."

"There is another someday, Hermione," said Minerva over her teacup. "Someday the world will be ready to believe that Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley were regular boys, that Albus Dumbledore was fallible, and Hermione Granger isn't the Lady of the Lake reborn. Perhaps, then, they will understand that Severus Snape is in some manner a hero."

"Tomorrow would be good for me," smiled Hermione, weary of the fuss.

"A little after tomorrow," encouraged the Headmistress. "Tomorrow you have the first year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, second year Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, who are all eager to learn Transfiguration, and a paper to submit to me on the analysis of the Third Principle of Gaseous Transfiguration."

"Sounds like a full day, Headmistress," replied Hermione, finishing her tea. "I'd better get some sleep."

"I shall see you at breakfast, then."

"Perhaps you should get some sleep, too," said Hermione archly.

"I shall certainly endeavour to do so. Goodnight, my dear," said Minerva affectionately.

"Good night, Hermione," said the portrait of Albus Dumbledore.

Hermione rose and headed down the winding staircase. She was physically and emotionally exhausted, grateful to be heading to bed. She walked down the corridors, aware that the Bloody Baron was providing her with an escort at a distance. When she reached her rooms in the tower housing the teachers and apprentices, she turned and invited the Baron in. He followed her and gave her a chance to get the fireplace going before he stepped into the sitting room.

"Professor Snape is safely out of Britain, Baron." Hermione sat down next to the fireplace, absorbing the heat and staying out of the cold exuded by the ghostly Baron.

"I am much relieved to hear it, Miss Granger," replied the Baron as he hovered by the doorway. "How are his spirits?"

"He is bitter, but he has good reason to be," she replied. "He did take the option offered by Headmaster Dumbledore, so he will have a good deal more freedom than he would if he were sequestered in a safe house somewhere in the English countryside for the next five years."

"Will he allow you to see him?"

"In a month. I shall be happy to take him a message from you, if you wish."

"I shall prepare something, if you do not mind taking dictation on my behalf."

"I will be more than pleased to, Baron," replied Hermione with a jaw-cracking yawn. "My apologies, Baron. It has been a long day."

"I shall not keep you up any longer," replied the Baron, removing his feathered hat and giving her a sweeping bow. "I thank you for aiding him, my lady."

Hermione smiled at the courtly gesture. "You're welcome, Baron."

The Baron disappeared through the wall and Hermione was left alone. Not entirely alone. The room was filled with memories. There were wizarding photos of Harry and Ron on the mantle above the fireplace. On the table were other photos of Ginny and the Weasleys alongside non-wizarding photos of her parents. She smiled at Harry and Ron, who waved at her. The photo was from their sixth year, after they had won the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Quidditch game. They'd been happy.

Hermione had a lock of hair each from Harry and Ron, snipped from haircuts she gave them a few weeks before it all ended. Some day, she would have a portrait painted of each of them. Then they could talk again. It was too soon, only seven months since that last horrible day after the war. For now, she settled for memories.

Hermione got up and walked to the bedroom, the lights extinguishing themselves behind her. There were no photos in here. No reminders to keep her awake, to remind her to grieve. Her robes and undergarments went into the hamper, her shoes into the wardrobe, and her hairpins onto the chest of drawers. She pulled on a simple flannel nightgown.

Opening the top drawer of the bureau, she placed the envelope inside. She sighed as she pushed the drawer closed, turned around and rested her back against the tall chest. The four-poster bed with the soft blue curtains looked inviting. She climbed in and pulled the covers up over her shoulders. A ginger cat with a squashed face came out from under the bed and jumped up on top of the quilt. Hermione turned over on her side and stared into the darkness.

-----------------------------

Thank you to my reviewers: Amsev, Me, Duj, Phantom's Allure, Toostupidforyou, Heidi191976, Farmer Liz, Mooncat4, and Whitehound


	3. Chapter 3

As always, I don't own any of this. I'm just playing.

Thank you to Annie Talbot for critiquing this chapter, finding the time somewhere in her very hectic life. Thank you also to Evil Mastermind 666 for taking a look at the chapters set in Canada and helping me to keep them authentic.

----------------------------------

February, 1999

"Mr. Flynn, please demonstrate the steps in Transfiguring a table into a chair." Hermione stepped back and allowed the second year Hufflepuff to show the class. Her long velvet skirt and apprentice's robe swished against the platform as she moved. Transfiguration didn't come easily to Patrick Flynn. Now that he was showing improvement with the extra tutoring Hermione provided, she was anxious to give him a chance to show off. He could do with a little more self-confidence.

Hermione looked around the classroom at the eighteen students in the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor session. The class was smaller than during her years as a student, but enrolment at Hogwarts had diminished by more than a third since Headmaster Dumbledore was killed during the Death Eater raid on Hogwarts. Within days, half of the students had been withdrawn from the school by their families. The staff had hoped that with the summer holiday, fears would cool and families would realise their children would be safe at Hogwarts.

The events of the war changed everything. Professor McGonagall was demoted to a teacher and Severus Snape appointed Headmaster by the Board of Governors, controlled by Voldemort. The Carrows were installed as teachers and families were ordered to send their children to Hogwarts. Minerva and the other teachers stayed on out of fear of which Death Eaters might be chosen to take their places.

Hostages. The children were innocent hostages to be used as leverage against their parents.

When Severus Snape testified under Veritaserum at his hearing before the Wizengamot, it became apparent that he had done all he could to moderate the Carrows' cruelty to the students. He could not protect his own primary mission of enabling Harry Potter to finish his quest and fully protect the children, too. Voldemort would have figured out what he was doing and all his efforts would have been undone.

Hermione shivered to herself as she thought about the flat tone of his voice when he revealed how he had to manoeuvre to keep Neville Longbottom and a few other Defence Association members from being executed outright. Professors Sprout, Flitwick, and McGonagall all testified how Headmaster Snape had countermanded the Carrows' most extreme punishments.

The traumatised students, combined with the casualties from the Battle of Hogwarts further undermined any trust parents felt for the school. Hogwarts' reputation was badly damaged.

Now that the war was over, Minerva was determined to once again make Hogwarts the premier magical school in Europe. The key was the safety of the children combined with keeping the staff out of politics and vigilante actions. The Order of the Phoenix was disbanded, but some of the most important members were teaching at Hogwarts.

Bill Weasley had taken over Defence Against the Dark Arts and served as Head of House for Gryffindor. Now that the curse was gone, the students were getting a good education. The one-year jinx had been broken at Voldemort's death. Bill's good humour and intelligence impressed the students, even if his disfigured face did not. He was popular and the older students understood the scars were a badge of honour, gained in defence of the students against the Death Eaters who invaded Hogwarts the night Dumbledore died.

Hermione still couldn't bring herself to actually like Bill's wife, Fleur. She respected her willingness to become one of the Polyjuiced Harrys when the Order helped him to escape from the Dursleys' home. Fleur had been kind when Harry, Ron, and Hermione hid out with them at Shell Cottage, along with Griphook, Luna, Dean, and Ollivander.

Those were things that made her respect Fleur, but the woman and her cloying ways were unbelievably annoying. She wondered if Bill ever got tired of her frilly fussiness. The male students who were working their way through puberty didn't seem to mind. That one quarter of Veela blood was enough to kick their hormones into high gear and send their brain cells leaking out of their ears.

Of course, Minerva was Headmistress and no one had been more involved in the Order of the Phoenix than she had been. Grieving for friends lost in the last years of Voldemort's reign of terror, combined with the stress of the war, followed by her new responsibilities as Headmistress, Minerva had been stretched perilously thin.

Now, the focus was on rebuilding the school.

Had the situation been different, Hermione might not have returned to Hogwarts. By a special dispensation from the Board of Governors, she was allowed to take her N.E.W.T.s without completing her seventh year. Hermione couldn't imagine returning to Hogwarts as a student. To return to Gryffindor Tower without Ron and Harry was unimaginable.

She wanted more choices in her life, but she had something in common with Snape; there were people out there who wanted to hurt her. Some Death Eaters were not accounted for and might seek vengeance against her because of the role she had played in the destruction of their plans. From Hermione's perspective, the greater problem was the unwelcome attention she received from the wizarding public since she was the only survivor of the Golden Trio.

All three of them had been romanticised; their faults and fundamental human frailties somehow vanished in the skewed light of hero worship, carefully crafted public relations campaigns of the Ministry, and exaggerations printed in the _Daily Prophet_. Hermione couldn't walk down a street in Hogsmeade without being mobbed by fans wanting to shake her hand, buy her a drink, and seek her autograph. She'd received hundreds of owls carrying letters with job offers, marriage proposals, and requests for product endorsements.

All she wanted was to live a normal life, not that life would ever be normal again without Harry, Ron, and her parents.

Her parents were living in Australia under assumed names with magically tampered memories. When the war was over, Hermione had them examined by an expert in memory charms. The charms could not be undone.

Hermione had the satisfaction of knowing that her parents were safe. She had the pain of knowing they would never remember that they had a daughter. With the best of intentions, perfectionist Hermione Granger had attempted difficult memory charms that were beyond her level of skill and botched the job.

One more thing to add to an already extensive list of things she felt terribly guilty about.

There wasn't any place to go to live a normal life. She couldn't go live in the wizarding community and have any privacy, nor was it safe. She couldn't disappear into the Muggle world. Under the circumstances, Minerva's offer of an apprenticeship with teaching responsibilities was welcome. In the controlled environment of Hogwarts, she could be safe.

She knew, after the events at the end of the war, that she could have asked for any apprenticeship she wanted and it would have been hers without question. Ideally, she would have chosen Potions, but having spent sixth year with Slughorn she knew it would never work.

Hermione was indecisive for the first time in her life, debating among Charms, Arithmancy, and Transfiguration. All three were tied in a distant second place to Potions. Ultimately, it was her personal relationship with Minerva that made the difference and determined her choice. She would learn Transfiguration and attain a Mastery. At some future time when things were safe and people more sane, she could pursue Potions. Meanwhile, she could ease Minerva's burden by teaching the first through third years and be an emotional support to a woman she greatly respected.

Hermione's attention returned to the here and now as Mr. Flynn finished his transfiguration, producing a nicely overstuffed chair. Hermione demonstrated her faith in his skills by sitting in it for the rest of the class and awarding five points to Hufflepuff. This part of teaching was rewarding, seeing a student make progress and giving a bit of recognition for it. At the end of the hour, Hermione assigned the students two chapters of reading for the next class and sent them on their way.

Hermione made her way back to the staff quarters and entered her chambers. Everything was ready to go. Fifteen crates of Snape's books and possessions had been reduced and packed in a rucksack. The tote bag with the rest of the items rested beside it. Hermione went to the bedroom and changed into warm Muggle clothing, heavy boots, and a down coat with a hood. Gathering up everything she planned to take with her, Hermione stuck the Portkey in her pocket and headed towards the Teachers Only door that would take her directly to the path to the gates. Along the way, the Bloody Baron joined her, keeping pace as he floated alongside. In minutes they were on the grounds, trudging through the last of the snow.

She paused for a moment at the gate and the Baron drew closer. Out in the cold, his presence didn't make her feel any colder.

"Please give him my best wishes, if you would Miss Granger."

"I will, Baron."

Hermione took out the Portkey, a child's building block, and said the password.

"Redeemed."

A familiar tugging feeling formed behind her navel and she felt as if an invisible rope was pulling her. She came to a sudden stop and pitched forward, falling into a drift of undisturbed snow. Hermione pulled up her head and shook it, trying to get the snow off her face. Overbalanced by the rucksack and tote bag, she had fallen into a deep drift.

She wiped the rest of the snow away from her face with her gloved hand. The snow looked fresh and there were flurries in the air. It was bitterly cold. She could smell burning firewood and turned around to get her bearings. The cabin was to her left and there was smoke coming from the chimney. Hermione pulled up the rucksack so the strap was over her shoulder. She bent over to pick up the tote bag, struggling to stay upright in the snow. A dark form was moving towards her through the drifts. Hermione recognized the black down parka as one she had selected for the Professor and trudged her way towards him. She must have triggered the wards.

"Hello, sir," called Hermione into the wind, hoping he could hear her.

"You seem to have picked a fine day for a visit, Miss Granger," called back the familiar voice.

"I believe it was you who said I should come in a month, sir," she returned.

They met halfway between her arrival point and the cabin. Snape reached out to take the rucksack, which Hermione cheerfully surrendered. Leaning forward into the wind, the two made it back to the cabin. Snape opened the door and walked in, stamping the snow off his boots as he did. Hermione pulled down the hood of her coat and did likewise. Snape set the rucksack on the floor, pulled off his parka, and hung it on a clothes tree. Hermione removed her gloves and scarf and Snape held out his hand to take the coat, which joined his on the rack.

"It's warm in here," remarked Hermione, blowing on her fingers to warm them.

"Yes," remarked Snape. "Between the fireplace and the heating spells, the cabin is comfortable. If you would like to sit down, I will make tea." He waved her towards the cluster of overstuffed chairs in front of the fire.

"Thank you," replied Hermione, "That sounds good." She bent over and pulled off her boots, leaving them by the door. In her stocking feet, Hermione walked over to the fireplace and sat in one of the chairs, stretching out her feet in front of the fire. She enjoyed the feeling of the heat against the bottoms of her feet. Hermione felt surprisingly relaxed for being alone in the presence of one of the most difficult people she'd ever known. She leaned back in the chair and noticed a book on the table next to it, a Muggle paperback novel, perhaps a mystery thriller, given the title.

As she sat back, she watched Snape out of the corner of her eye. He was dressed in Muggle clothing, a gray cardigan with a black turtleneck sweater underneath and matching slacks. All were items Hermione had selected for him. She had purchased them based on the measurements given to her by the house-elves at Hogwarts, who had apparently arranged for delivery of innumerable sets of frock coats and trousers over the years. Given his appearance when she last saw him at the Ministry of Magic, she would have expected the clothes to hang on him. She thought he had gained a little weight and looked healthier. His hair was loose around his shoulders and showed no sign of greasiness. Hermione was pleased that her choice of shampoo for his oily hair seemed to be working.

Snape came around the two chairs, carrying mugs of tea. He held out one to Hermione.

"Do you take anything with it? I can offer sugar, but the milk is tinned," he commented.

"I prefer my tea plain," she replied. "Thank you." Hermione accepted the cup and held it gingerly, the heat stinging her fingers. She blew on it and took a delicate sip. Excellent.

"How are you, Professor?" she asked.

"Please do not call me that," he snapped, looking at her sharply. "I am not a professor and have not been one for months."

"I'm sorry, sir," apologized Hermione. "I'm so accustomed to thinking of you by that title; I'm having a terrible time trying to call you anything else."

"My proper title and name is Master Snape. For one of my education and experience, it is appropriate, just as you would refer to a Muggle physician as Doctor Johnson."

Hermione recalled that during the trial, she only heard him referred to as Snape. In more informal moments around the Aurors and the public, he'd been referred to as 'that bastard Snape'. There had been no respect, even when it was clear he had not done things for the reasons practically everyone had believed.

"Master Snape, it is then," said Hermione. "So, how are you Master Snape?"

"Tolerably well, Miss Granger," he replied, sitting rather stiffly in the chair beside her.

"I hope I got food you like." When stocking the pantry and the cold storage, Hermione tried to remember the things he seemed to favour at Hogwarts. She'd supplied him with sausages, beef, and chicken kept in a cold storage bin with freezing spells. There were plenty of canned and boxed goods. Bread and some perishables were left in cold storage. There was coffee and tea, canned juice and fruit, and tins of chocolate biscuits and shortbread.

"The food is adequate," replied Snape, his eyes meeting hers. "I went to town two weeks ago and purchased other things I needed. I must confess I have enjoyed having a chance to cook again."

"Minerva said you like to cook and that you are good at it."

"Most individuals who have mastered potions are," he replied, his face expressionless.

"What do you think of the town?" she asked in attempt to keep the conversation going.

"It is very small and…Muggle," said Snape, looking away. "It is safer that way, though the presence of any stranger is noticeable."

"I didn't have a chance to visit the town when I came out here before," replied Hermione. "Is there much there?"

"All Muggle establishments, no sign of any wizarding families," he replied, setting down the mug of tea. "There are three taverns, two restaurants, a grocery store, petrol station, Muggle apothecary, and a library. The library is acceptable for fiction, but there is not much else."

"Then it is just as well that I brought some of your things. I didn't open the crates to see what is in them. I didn't think it was my place to go poking through your property to sort it out. I picked out fifteen of some fifty crates and reduced them. They're in the rucksack. I also brought you some other reading material."

Hermione reached for the tote bag that sat on the floor beside the chair. Opening it, she pulled out a stack of magazines and newspapers. "There are some interesting issues of _The Daily Prophet_ and _The Quibbler_ here. I've got the most recent issues of _Ars Alchemica_ and the other scholarly journals for you. Since you're Unplottable, if you'll give me a list of publications you'd like me to subscribe to on your behalf, I'll bring them with me when I come. I will bring your mail. There are letters here from Minerva and Horace. There's one from the Bloody Baron that he dictated to me. Arthur and Molly sent you one, too."

Snape flung himself out of the chair, startling Hermione into silence. He began to pace, struggling to keep his features expressionless. She remembered the pacing he did during the waiting periods of the trial. It was usually an expression of anger or stress.

"They mean well, sir."

"Yes," hissed Snape, black eyes snapping, "They always did."

There was a noise in the fireplace, a rattling sound in the chimney. Hermione startled and went for her wand. Snape held out his hand and waved her back.

"Wait."

A blast of cold air shot through the fireplace and a bundle of scarlet feathers tinted with gold came swooping through. The creature spread its wings and flew around the room before landing heavily on Snape's shoulder. The bird tilted its majestic red head and pecked affectionately at Snape's ear.

"Fawkes?" asked Hermione in astonishment. "Is it really you?"

"How many other phoenixes are you acquainted with?" asked Snape dryly, raising a hand to stroke the phoenix' head.

The elegant bird tilted its head to look at Hermione. She could have sworn he gave her a look of recognition as he trilled into Snape's ear. Snape moved back to the chair and Fawkes hopped into his lap as he sat. He gently shifted the bird so he could stroke underneath its chin.

'Snape is calm, now,' she thought, amazed. 'Fawkes realized he was upset and came to calm him down.'

Hermione knew she had an inane smile on her face.

"He's _your_ familiar, now."

Snape looked at Hermione, inscrutable.

"Fawkes showed up here three days after I arrived. Apparently, Unplottable means nothing to a phoenix."

"Maybe the Headmaster brought him here once and somehow he knew to come here to find you?" She looked affectionately at the bird, the size of a small turkey, sitting on Snape's lap. "Wherever have you been, Fawkes? I didn't think we'd ever see you again after you disappeared."

The phoenix raised his head and gazed at Hermione. Two hops later and Fawkes was sitting on the arm of her chair, nudging her hand to pet him.

"Oh Fawkes, I am so glad to see you," she crooned, stroking his red gold feathers. Hermione looked up and saw Snape looking at her, his black eyes unreadable. Hermione gave him a wicked grin.

"Just wait," she said emphatically. "Just wait until those sons of bitches start in with me again. Saying you did it for any other reason than Dumbledore and Voldemort forced you to." She stroked Fawkes' crest and drew his head up and gazed at his golden eyes. "When they find out that Fawkes came to you, that he is here with you, that he's your familiar…. That will shut them up. No way would Fawkes be here otherwise. He loved Dumbledore."

"Stop it, Granger," ordered Snape with quiet authority

"Why?" she insisted. "This is one piece of evidence they can't argue with, can't interpret in any other way than how it really is. Fawkes loved Dumbledore. If you had done it with the intent they claim, Fawkes would never be here. He'd pluck your eyes out and have them for pudding."

"What a lovely image you have just put in my mind, Miss Granger," said Snape, sarcasm dripping from every pore.

"Rita Skeeter has been bothering me for an exclusive interview for months," said Hermione, excited. "I'll give it to her and tell her Fawkes is …." Then the realization hit her and the tirade stopped abruptly. "Damn."

"Language, Miss Granger."

"I can't tell them I've seen you without everyone figuring out I'm your Secret Keeper." Hermione looked down at Fawkes, disappointed. "I guess I let my enthusiasm carry me away for a bit."

"I am not a house-elf in need of liberating."

She looked up at him, her sincerity blazing in her eyes.

"No. You need liberating more than any house-elf I've ever known."

Snape's jaw dropped.

"That is ENOUGH," he stormed. "As much as I have enjoyed this lovely interlude, I believe it is time for you to leave."

Hermione froze in place as her habitual response to Professor Snape's ire kicked in. Fawkes shifted on the arm of her chair and nudged her hand. She took a deep breath before she responded.

"I apologize, sir," she said softly, looking at the phoenix and pointedly not looking at him. "I'm rather ashamed I said such a thing." The phoenix began trilling again, casting his magical calm over the two humans.

Snape looked angry. His posture was rigid and the lines around his mouth pronounced as he frowned.

"I do not care to become one of your projects, Miss Granger," said Snape sharply. "I have been manipulated for more than twenty years by two of the finest manipulators in the history of wizarding Britain. By virtue of being here, I am still being manipulated by one of them from beyond the grave and I expect to pay the price for the other's manipulation for the rest of my life. I am making the best of a difficult situation and at this point in my life, even living as I do in almost complete isolation, I have more freedom than I have known in years. I allowed you to become my Secret Keeper so I could maintain some contact with a few people from my past. DO NOTHING that will allow anyone to discover that connection."

"You are right, sir," said Hermione, her confidence shaken. "I apologise again. I realize I can be very naïve when I want to see justice done or right some wrong. I will be careful and I will keep my mouth shut."

Snape released some of the tension from his posture and loosened his grip on the arm rests of the chair.

Hermione did the same. She was nineteen years old and considered mature beyond her years by those who knew her. In spite of that, Professor Snape could still make her feel like she was eleven.

"There are a few people who would be very relieved to know that Fawkes is with you. May I tell Minerva and ask her to tell Hagrid?" asked Hermione.

"I have no objection, but please remind Hagrid that the information is confidential. That will assure he will tell others and the word will get out without implicating you, Miss Granger," said Snape, his voice returning to calm.

"Do you have any letters or messages you would like me to carry back for anyone, sir?"

"Just tell Minerva and the others that I am doing well."

Hermione hesitated for a moment.

"Shall I return in a month? There are more crates to bring."

"You may," replied Snape. "If you are willing, I have a list of things I would like you to bring." He rose and walked over to a desk by the kitchen area. He opened a drawer and drew out a long piece of paper and an envelope. He held out the list for her to take. Fawkes startled her when he took a flapping leap and landed on the back of the other chair. Hermione perused the list, which consisted of potions ingredients and equipment.

"I have research I would like to do," explained Snape. "I will turn the second bedroom into a laboratory of sorts. The list includes things I will need. The envelope has Canadian money in it to repay you. I hope it will not inconvenience you since I have no means of converting it into galleons at this point."

"Not at all," replied Hermione. "I can get all of these things for you with no problem. I could return in a week or two with them, if you prefer."

"That is unnecessary," replied Snape, running his hand through his hair. "Unpacking what you have already brought will keep me busy for a while. I find I am rather enjoying the solitude and the freedom to do things on whatever schedule I choose. Fawkes is really quite enough company for the nonce."

"I understand," said Hermione. "I should be going, soon." Hermione met his eyes. "We need to repeat the charm, now that you have your wand."

"Ah, yes," observed Snape. "You did the modified version last time." Snape rose and indicated that Hermione should rise as well. The two moved into the open area at the centre of the cabin's great room. Snape walked around Hermione, casting his portion of the charm. A blue light shone around the two as they exchanged places and Hermione repeated the words of the charm and made her vow of fidelity as Secret Keeper. The blue light expanded, turned gold, and faded away.

"It is time for me to go."

She did not leave the statement open to discussion, nor did he offer otherwise. Hermione rose and put the list and envelope in the tote bag. In short order, she was dressed in her boots, heavy coat, and other winter gear. Snape, similarly dressed, opened the door to escort her past the wards. The trail she had left in the snow was partially filled with blowing snowflakes. They did not speak until they reached the place in the snowdrifts where Hermione had fallen when she arrived.

"Miss Granger," said Snape hesitantly, speaking loudly enough to be heard over the wind. "I do appreciate the trouble you went to in supplying the cabin. You provided me with a good deal of comfort. You have taken time to bring my possessions. It must have seemed ungrateful for me to lecture you after what you have done."

"Professor…." Hermione coughed with embarrassment as she realized how she had addressed him. "I'm sorry; it is going to take some getting used to. Master Snape," she emphasized, "I do want to help if I can. Bringing your things and visiting once a month does not demand much of me."

"Nonetheless," replied Snape.

"I will see you next month, sir," said Hermione. "Perhaps there will be a bit less snow?"

"Do not count on it, Miss Granger."

Hermione pulled out the Portkey and disappeared.

----------------------------

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed _Memories of War_: Whitehound, Mooncat4, FarmerLiz, Heidi191976, Toostupidforyou, Phantom's Allure, Duj, Me, Amsev, CharmedForce, Samalia, Koliber, Marble Meadow, Trulyamused, LonedButterfly, Sunsethill, Severessa, T wrecks, Excessivelyperky, Snape's Witch, Dobbinff, Just me, Erytha, Millenia2, Bellas, Bellamaine Chercour, Cambio de forma, T wrecks, Mother of Tears, Arwen78, Notwritten, Martyjeannine, KimJo, and HumbleMaster.


	4. Chapter 4

I own nothing you recognize. I simply play in JKR's universe for fun.

Thank you to Annie Talbot for critiquing this chapter and making it much better than the first version. Thank you to Bee for finding time in between classes to look it over and make sure the segments set in Canada are authentic.

--------------------------  
June, 2000

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione looked up from her desk at the front of the Transfiguration classroom. Patrick Flynn was standing in the doorway.

"Mr. Flynn, shouldn't you be on your way to catch the Hogwarts Express?" she asked.

"I just wanted to see you before I left, Miss Granger." Flynn wandered further into the classroom, looking somewhere between shy and smitten. His crush on Miss Granger had intensified over the last year and she was hoping the summer break would cool his ardour.

"I wanted to wish you a good summer," said Flynn.

"I hope you have the same, Mr. Flynn," said Hermione as she walked towards the boy. "Will you be going to the seaside as you'd hoped?"

"Yes," he answered, smiling brightly.

'Mum and Dad would love his teeth,' thought Hermione.

"We're going to the seaside for a whole week and I'm going to go see my Uncle Henry and Aunt Janet for two weeks."

"Then you'll be busy." Hermione looked down at the blonde-haired, blue-eyed Hufflepuff. i You'll break hearts in a year or two. /i "I wrote your parents a note about how well you are doing in Transfiguration. You've applied yourself quite well and they should be proud of your work."

The boy gave a delighted grin as if she'd just announced she was only waiting for him to grow up before announcing their engagement.

"Thank you, Miss Granger." He shuffled his feet back and forth a few times. "I'd better get down to the station." He headed out the door, turning back for a moment to give her a last wave.

Hermione chuckled and shook her head. She turned and walked back to the desk. Her work was done, the last of the tests graded and year-end grades calculated. She picked up the sheaf of parchments and put them in a folder. She could drop them off in Minerva's office on the way to her rooms before lunch. Then she had a few hours to fit in a little reading and a nap before it was time to leave to see Snape.

The land around the cabin looked so different in the summer. Most obviously, there wasn't a foot of snow on the ground. Everything was intensely green and the plants were flowering profusely. Hermione shifted the rucksack to her other shoulder and waved at Snape, who returned her wave as he worked.

Severus Snape, dressed in a manner Hermione never would have expected, wore a pair of denim jeans and a long-sleeved navy blue t-shirt. He had his hair tied back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. Flashes of red light issued from his wand as he split wood for the fireplace.

Hermione strolled up the path to the cabin, admiring his form. He looked so much better than he had even a year ago. He'd probably gained two stone since that last day at the Ministry. It still left him thin, given his height, but he had lost the half-starved appearance he'd had before. That extra bit of weight took away some of the depth in the lines of his face. His skin looked better, with just the slightest hint of a tan. Best of all, he didn't give the impression of being so tightly wired, always on the edge. He seemed to be relaxing in his second year in Canada.

"Good morning, Granger." Snape stopped splitting firewood and turned towards Hermione. "You picked a lovely day for a visit."

"I did, didn't I? Midwinter is beautiful here if rather snowy and cold, but this is pretty good too."

Snape gave her the slightest bit of a smile. A year ago, a smile would probably have cracked his face.

"Would you care to join me for breakfast?"

"I'd be delighted."

Snape led the way into the cabin. Hermione looked around and saw no sign of Fawkes.

"Fawkes is out hunting," said Snape, anticipating the question with a raised eyebrow. He moved around the kitchen, bringing out flour, eggs, and milk. Ingredients went into a large bowl and he charmed a wooden spoon to do the stirring.

"Every once in a while Crookshanks will go hunting and bring me back a gift, usually leaving it on my pillow," said Hermione as she sat down at the table. "Last time, I had my head on the aforementioned pillow before I realized the mouse corpse was there. The Bloody Baron came right through the wall when he heard me scream. I realized it was caught in my hair and I got hysterical. The Baron grabbed it and broke off a chunk of my hair when it froze solid."

Snape raised an eyebrow. There was a smile teasing the corners of his mouth.

"I considered it worth the loss of some hair to get the dead mouse out of it."

"Rescued by the Bloody Baron?" asked Snape, shaking his head in amusement.

"The Baron and I have become friends," confessed Hermione. "He's really a good conversationalist and very witty. No wonder the two of you got along so well. He has the same sardonic sense of humour you have and I enjoy his cynical take on modern politics. He's taken to looking after me.

"Yesterday, before we all went to Three Broomsticks after the Leaving Ceremony, some reporters had me cornered for the old 'It's been two years, how do you feel?' kind of thing. The Baron, bless his heart, came along, scared away two of them and practically froze the third. He's very chivalrous."

"He certainly came from the age when chivalry was simply expected," said Snape as he added baking powder to bowl. He opened a cold storage cabinet and drew out a bowl of blackberries.

"I appreciate him looking out for me. Between the Baron and Nearly Headless Nick, I rarely go anyplace in the castle or on the grounds alone," observed Hermione.

Snape looked at her, concerned.

"Has there been any further sign of Mulciber?" he asked, watching her closely.

"No," replied Hermione, shaking her head. "Not since that time Hagrid spotted him."

"He should not have been able to get past the gates."

"Filius, Bill, Minerva, and I went out and reinforced the wards and barriers after that incident. He can't get anywhere near the castle without triggering an alarm."

The kettle whistled and Snape stopped to pour hot water into the waiting teapot. He measured loose tea into it and set it to steep.

"I honestly don't think he was looking for me," said Hermione casually. "There's been a lot of speculation that you are hiding somewhere in the school. Some people think that you found all kinds of secret rooms and passages while you were Headmaster and that you have set up residence in the Chamber of Secrets."

Snape snorted in response.

Hermione didn't add that Snape had become something like the bogeyman to the younger students. Some of the older ones with a mean streak had started a rumour that Professor Snape was stalking the dungeons and would steal away anyone he found down there and use them in unspeakable ways before they wound up in a potion. It had become a popular dare to get the younger children to go down there. Hermione wasn't entirely sure Professor Slughorn wasn't encouraging the rumours.

"It seems unlikely that Mulciber would be after you," replied Snape, looking at her sharply. "You did not ruin his life nearly to the degree I did by aiding Potter." He added the blackberries to the batter and stirred by hand.

Hermione reached for the teapot. She took the strainer and poured the tea through it into the mugs.

"On the good side, if he was looking for you at Hogwarts, then he has no idea where you really are," remarked Hermione, setting down the teapot.

"I have seen no sign of anyone, any intruders, or any suspicious strangers around town." Snape splashed a few droplets of water onto the cast iron skillet and watched them sizzle, a sure sign that the skillet was hot enough. He poured batter for three pancakes into the skillet. "There were plenty of strangers in town earlier in the month for the chess tournament."

"How did you do?" asked Hermione encouragingly.

"I came in second," said Snape as he deftly flipped the pancakes. "Wilson Dobrinsky, a retired airline pilot, came in first. It is a sad state of affairs when a wizard cannot out-strategize a Muggle."

"You could if you did the arithmancy in your head, though it would be an unfair advantage given Muggle opponents."

"Under the circumstances, it would be cheating and I would not learn to improve my game." The pancakes came off the skillet and he stacked them on a warmed plate. He handed the plate to Hermione and poured more batter into the pan.

Hermione spread the butter onto the pancakes, cut through them with the fork and took a bite.

"Wonderful," said Hermione as the flavour of the blackberries hit her tongue. "There's just the slightest hint of lemon in this."

"A touch of lemon zest," explained Snape.

"It brings out the flavour of the blackberries," she replied, taking another bite. "I'm glad you've made friends in town."

"I would not describe them as friends," corrected Snape. He watched Hermione out of the corner of his eye. "We are acquaintances who share an interest. You will be pleased to know I was invited to join the Lions Club."

Hermione snorted and proceeded to inhale a forkful of pancakes. She coughed violently to clear her airway, her eyes watering as she gasped for breath. Snape handed her a glass of water. She drank it down and mopped her eyes with a napkin. She looked at Snape and burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry," she choked out. "You just don't seem the Lions Club type. Wearing a vest with patches and a funny hat and attending conventions."

"My one experience in joining a club turned out rather badly and I was expected to dress in unusual ways for that one, too," came the snide reply. "I do not believe I will be joining any other clubs in the future, especially one with a Gryffindor theme."

Hermione smiled at him and resumed eating her pancakes. Snape stacked his own pancakes on his plate and joined her at the table. Hermione pulled up her tote bag and began to rummage through it.

"Hagrid sent you some of his rock cakes," said Hermione as she enlarged the box.

"Good," replied Snape. "I used the last ones he sent to line the pathway."

Hermione snorted again.

"You are going to kill me if you keep this up," she said, shaking her head at Snape.

"I shall have to stop then," replied Snape, with just a hint of a smile. "I prefer not to have to train a new Secret Keeper."

She smiled back at him and continued rummaging.

"I have an article here from the _Prophet_ that you'll find interesting," said Hermione, handing him the newspaper. Severus eyes were drawn to the headline.

----------------------------

_Lucius Malfoy Sent to Azkaban  
__By Rita Skeeter_

_In a surprise move by the Wizengamot, Lucius Malfoy was sentenced to 20 years in Azkaban for his actions as a Death Eater under the command of He Whom We Try To Avoid Naming. Popular belief held that Malfoy would be given parole and a large fine due to evidence that he was coerced by threats from the Dark Lord. "My family was continually held hostage to the Dark Lord's whims. Had I disobeyed, my wife and son would have been tortured and murdered. I had no choice but do anything he ordered."_

_During his trial, Malfoy confessed to having lied before the Wizengamot during previous trials about having been under the Imperius Curse. "I lied because I had to stay out of Azkaban. I could not protect my family from inside those walls. I challenge anyone to tell me what else I could have done."_

_Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic, told this reporter; "This is a great day for justice in the wizarding world. No one will buy his way out of prison under my administration."_

_Malfoy gave his wife a final embrace before he was led off to a holding cell. The audience present at the trial was impressed with Malfoy's dignity as he exited Courtroom Ten. Lucius Malfoy will join his son, Draco, in Azkaban. Draco Malfoy is currently six months into a six year sentence for his participation in the Death Eater conspiracy to murder Albus Dumbledore and his actions during the Battle of Hogwarts. Unlike his father, young Malfoy will be eligible for parole in four years. Madam Malfoy was not available for comment. _

------------------------

"This is a remarkably light sentence," commented Severus.

"I attended one day of the trial," replied Hermione. "I wasn't a witness for this one, so I was allowed to. I think Malfoy made his case to the Wizengamot that Narcissa and Draco were continually at the verge of being killed by Voldemort. He got some sympathy votes on that, though I heard some of the Wizengamot members say that he would have deserved to have his family tortured and killed."

"I do not doubt that the families of some of Malfoy's victims would express the same feelings," said Severus, shaking his head with regret. "What Lucius said was true. Voldemort made it abundantly apparent that one misstep on Lucius' part and Draco and Narcissa would be tortured to death before his eyes. Voldemort was becoming increasingly insane and violent. I had never seen Lucius cowed before. He was truly in terror for their lives."

"I wonder if they will allow Draco and Lucius to see each other?" asked Hermione.

"No," said Severus, definitively. "They will be kept apart. Azkaban is not intended to provide any emotional comfort to the inmates."

"I suppose not," said Hermione. "The whole thing is just so sad." She continued pulling envelopes from her tote bag.

"There are letters from Minerva, who also sent you some Honeydukes dark chocolates, and another from Molly. Charlie is marrying Beatrix, that really nice witch from Romania whom he was seeing. At the rate things are going, Molly's daughters-in-law will all be from foreign countries. George is dating Beatrix' cousin Elena.

"How is George doing without his twin?" asked Snape.

"He has good days and bad," replied Hermione with a sigh. "He has the shop to keep him busy, but I would say that some of the creativity has gone out of the Wheezes. Fred and George used to feed off of each other, which inspired them to ever higher levels of obnoxious products. George has become much closer to Bill and they spend time together, but I know it just isn't the same."

"The two of them were practically interchangeable," commented Snape. "I am confident it has been said by many that they seemed to be two halves of one whole."

"To the degree that it was scary," said Hermione, teasing. She frowned. "George was practically suicidal with grief for a few months after Fred died. Molly and Arthur watched him very closely for a while." Hermione looked into her tote bag. "Did I tell you Bill and Fleur are expecting?"

"Molly must be ecstatic," replied Snape, pausing in his enjoyment of his breakfast.

"Seventh heaven," replied Hermione. "I'm scared she'll move into Hogwarts. Her nest is officially empty with Ginny living in an apartment off Diagon Alley and working for George. She doesn't know what to do with herself."

"Speaking of training, how is your apprenticeship progressing?"

"It's going fine. Two years down and one to go," replied Hermione, casually. "Minerva was so busy the last term, I taught most of the fourth year classes. I expect this year I'll take over the fourth and fifth year classes, while Minerva will teach the advanced classes. We expect enrolment to pick up in the fall; there are fifty-three first years on the list, up from forty-two last year."

"What will you do when you finish?"

"Take over all the classes so Minerva can be full-time Headmistress instead of trying to do double-duty."

"Is that what you want, Hermione?"

Hermione looked up at Snape in surprise. He'd never called her by her first name before.

"For now," she replied, her eyes wide. "I'm needed and I'm safe."

"But not sufficiently challenged."

Hermione didn't answer.

"An apprentice at the beginning of her third year should not be qualified to teach N.E.W.T. level classes, but I suspect you will be doing so long before the year is out. Minerva would not allow you to do so if you were unqualified."

"I'll have my special project to work on this year," replied Hermione. "Between that, teaching, and studying, I should be busy enough."

"What about this summer?"

"I'll get a lot of the studying and project work done for my apprenticeship. I'll be ready to take the certification examination right after the end of term next year."

"Nothing but studying and project work all summer?" Snape was looking at her with studied intensity, the kind that always got on her nerves.

"It still isn't safe for me to leave Hogwarts. Minerva and I are considering taking a few weeks and going to visit some museums in France and Germany."

"You are still getting death threats for testifying on my behalf?"

"Not as many as I did at first," replied Hermione conversationally as she finished her pancakes. "I turn them over to the Aurors. When they track down the writers, most of whom chose to be anonymous, they make a home visit to talk it over with them. Usually having a uniformed Auror show up on one's doorstep is enough to dissuade them. They know if something happens to me, they get to be on the suspect list."

"The Ministry is still providing you with protection?" asked Snape.

"When I ask for it," replied Hermione as she refilled their teacups. "It really isn't necessary, as I'm at Hogwarts most of the time. When I go elsewhere, I don't go alone. Most of the former Order members or friends from Dumbledore's Army have offered to escort me when I need it. Neville or Seamus are willing to go with me any time I want to go somewhere in Diagon Alley. Both of them are developing a reputation. No one gives me any difficulties when one of them is along. The last time a man made a pest out of himself when Neville was with me, he found himself walking around with a prehensile tail and green polka dot skin."

"You are all right, then?"

"I'm doing fine." Hermione decided to change the subject. "What are your plans for the summer?"

"There is an amateur chess tournament in Edmonton next month I shall attend. Otherwise, I intend to continue working on the garden and the greenhouse. I would like to have as many fresh ingredients to work with as I possibly can. It will also allow me to grow my own vegetables during the winter. I detest canned green beans, though canned corn is not too objectionable."

"May I see the greenhouse before I leave?" asked Hermione.

"Of course. The plant cuttings you brought from Pomona are doing very well. I will have mandrakes ready for harvesting this winter and all the bubotuber pus a potions practitioner could want." Snape paused to finish his tea. "I have started working on a variation of the Wolfsbane potion for Bill Weasley. Obviously he does not need Wolfsbane, but there might be a less potent version that could give him some relief of his symptoms during the full moon."

"He gets noticeably irritable," commented Hermione. "He refers to it as PMS, Perturbed at the Moon Syndrome."

Snape snorted.

"There are other victims of Greyback's reign of terror who could benefit from a potion to relieve their symptoms. I would like to help them if I can."

Hermione shuddered, remembering her torture session at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange and her promise that Greyback could use her as he pleased when she was done.

"I did not wish to bring back unpleasant memories," said Snape, his dark eyes intent.

"Lestrange is dead and Greyback will spend the rest of his life in Azkaban," she replied, staring down at her hands. "There is a sense of justice in that and I'm safe at Hogwarts. I remind myself of that on a regular basis."

"I am grateful you have decided to take this on as a project," continued Hermione, looking up at Severus. "There aren't enough of the near-werewolves to get the Ministry to allocate adequate research funds. In spite of better public relations, the Ministry has never been overly concerned about the well-being of werewolves or the new classification of near-werewolves."

"My shopping list for this visit includes some things I will need for my experiments." Snape rose and went to the desk, rummaging through a stack of papers. Hermione heard a soft "Aha," when he found the right one.

Snape brought the list and two envelopes. He handed Hermione the list. Everything on it could be procured in Diagon Alley. Then he handed her the envelope, which always contained the money to pay for everything on the shopping list. There was the second envelope, which read _Headmistress Minerva McGonagall_.

Hermione looked up at Snape with a question in her eyes.

"A letter for Minerva," he answered with studied casualness, looking away as he picked up their plates and took them to the sink.

Hermione wanted to laugh, hug Snape, and do the happy dance. She did none of those things. Instead, she stowed the envelopes and the list in her tote bag without comment.

"I'll pass it on to her."

"Thank you."

"Would you like to look through the greenhouse, now?" Snape left the dishes in the sink and leaned back against the counter, arms crossed in front of him.

"Sounds good to me," replied Hermione.

Snape handed Hermione the now empty rucksack. She pulled the strap over her shoulder and adjusted the tote bag. The two stood just outside of the wards surrounding the cabin.

"Good luck with the chess tournament," said Hermione.

"Historically speaking, I cannot rely on luck. I shall have to use skill instead," replied Snape as he looked up the side of the mountain to where the sun was now shining over the peak.

"Either way, have fun," replied Hermione. "I will plan to see you at the end of August, then?"

"Indeed," replied Snape. "Perhaps you could stay longer and have lunch? I should have plenty of tomatoes and will have perfected my spaghetti sauce by then."

"I'd be delighted," said Hermione. She pulled out her Portkey home and disappeared.


	5. Chapter 5

Many thanks to Annie Talbot and the staff at OWL for looking this over with a critical eye and great suggestions!

-----------------------------  
September, 2001

"Professor Granger, could you come over and look at this?" asked Flynn.

Hermione Granger stood on the platform at the front of her Transfiguration classroom. She stepped down, her black teaching robe catching on a corner of the old wood. She bent over and plucked it loose.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Flynn?" asked Hermione, joining Patrick Flynn at his desk.

"I can't get the colour right, ma'am," he replied, looking perplexed.

Hermione examined the brown leather shoebox that Flynn was attempting to Transfigure into a blue striped stocking cap.

"The cap keeps coming out green."

"Please demonstrate your wand movement for me."

The fourth year Hufflepuff gave two waves, three verbal commands, drew the rune Uraz in the air, and gave a hitch at the end. The shoebox turned into a green striped stocking cap.

"I see what the problem is," said Hermione, nodding at the boy. "You are left-handed and you are drawing the Uraz as a mirror image. That won't work with colours in fabric, though it will generally work for other kinds of materials such as porcelain or wood, given the automatic internal rebalancing of the magic due to your left-handedness. Blues are especially susceptible to the effect. Allow me to demonstrate the Uraz again and notice that the sharp angle is on the right." Hermione took her wand slowly through the motions. "Now try it."

Flynn mimicked the professor's wand movements. This time the shoebox turned into a blue striped stocking cap.

"Very good, Mr. Flynn," praised Hermione. "You need to be aware of your tendency to do mirror image wand movements. They will often work for left-handed people because of right brain dominance, but there will be times when it won't work for you."

Flynn nodded and continued to practice.

Hermione checked the work of the rest of the students. Getting fabric colours to an exact match was always tricky in Transfiguration. She decided the students needed more work on this.

"Your assignment for next time is an essay on the differences in wand movements required to get different shades of blue and green in fabric. Two feet, if you please. We will do drills in our next class, so practice up ladies and gentlemen. Read chapter six, you will find it helpful." Hermione stepped down from the platform and announced to the class; "You are dismissed."

Hermione gathered the parchments and books stacked on the desk and listened surreptitiously to the noise of the young teenagers milling around the room, arms full of books, discussing plans for the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend. She was pleased to hear Patrick Flynn inviting Elizabeth Wickham to walk with him and have a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. Flynn's crush had carried into third year and it was only towards the end of the last term that Hermione thought he was finally getting over it.

The day was going very well. She had the sixth year N.E.W.T.s class next, which had only sixteen students from all four Houses. At the end of the day she had third year Slytherin and Ravenclaw. She still needed to stop by Bill Weasley's office and pick up the letter about the effect of the potion on his symptoms. Then it would be time to head for the mountain. She could hardly wait.

The eight-hour time difference between British Columbia and Scotland tended to wreak havoc on Hermione's internal clock. In order to get there just before lunch, she had to leave two hours after dinner. She usually skipped dinner on those nights, since there was always an excellent meal waiting for her. Hermione stopped by her rooms after picking up the letter from Bill, who was busy walking his fussy son up and down the hallway outside of his apartment. Apparently young Fred had given his Mum a rough day and Dad had taken over.

Hermione changed into slacks and a warm jumper. She put on her heavy cloak. She shouldn't need the down coat yet, but it got too cold in the mountains to wear the fall jacket that would have served on the grounds at Hogwarts. It wasn't unknown to have snow in September at the cabin.

The sun was high in the sky when Hermione arrived. She tucked the Portkey away under her jumper. Last year, Filius Flitwick showed her how to safely reduce it to the size of a charm while retaining its function as a Portkey. She now wore it on a chain with a charm holder and an assortment of other charms. Once, Hermione forgot to hide the chain of charms under her clothes when she went out with Luna and Neville for dinner in Hogsmeade and started a whole new fashion when Rita Skeeter and her photographer saw her wearing it.

His photo of Hermione appeared on the cover of _Witch Weekly_ and within weeks, half the witches in Britain were wearing something similar. After Minerva read him the article from _The Quibbler_ about the hot new fashion trend, the Headmaster's portrait suggested that Hermione get a nice tattoo or face piercing and set the fashion in the wizarding world.

It was distinctly uncomfortable for a shy bookworm to be a fashion trendsetter.

------------------------------------------

Hermione picked up the rucksack and tote bag and headed for the cabin. She passed by the garden, which looked sad and wilted compared to the last time she had seen it in July. There were a few enormous pumpkins still out there, grown from seeds sent by Hagrid. Off to the east, Hermione heard a rustling in the woods. She turned in time to see two deer meandering back into the undergrowth.

The door of the cabin opened and Severus strode out, followed shortly by Fawkes who did a couple of swoops around Hermione's head and then landed on the porch rail in front of the cabin.

"Good morning, Hermione," greeted Severus.

"It's good evening back in Scotland," replied Hermione. "How are you, Severus?"

"Doing very well, thank you." He turned and looked into the woods. "What are you looking at?"

"There were a few deer over there a moment ago," she replied.

"There are plenty of them around here. Were it not for my brewing a repellent in the spring, they would have eaten their way through the garden."

"The pumpkins look better than last year." Hermione and Severus turned and headed back towards the cabin. He held out his hand for the rucksack and Hermione handed it to him.

"The soil is not conducive for growing them here. I added more soil to the garden and improved it in the spring. It made a difference with all of the vegetables. I plan to enlarge it by a third next spring." He opened the door for Hermione. "I never knew I could enjoy gardening the way I have. Between that and my research, I am well occupied."

"Bill sent you a report on how he is doing with your potion. St. Mungo's has identified ten more near-werewolves who will volunteer for a study. I can personally testify that Bill is much less testy to be around during the full moon than he was before. Even the students had noticed that he was more likely to teach Aggression Against the Dark Arts than Defense Against the Dark Arts during the full moon."

Severus laughed as he opened the door to the cabin.

"You've changed things in here," remarked Hermione in wonder as she looked around the room. "You've enlarged the room and added more bookshelves." Hermione had never been certain where Severus had stored all his books. She was confident most of the fifty-two crates she had delivered to him contained books, which had already been reduced to fit into the crates. She'd never been in Professor Snape's private quarters, but her best estimate was it must have looked like a branch of the Hogwarts' library.

The cabin's great room had been altered in size and shape. The room had been square and was now more rectangular and much wider than it had been before. Every space along the walls not occupied by a door or a window was now a shelf. The shelves were filled to overflowing with books.

"I had time to plan exactly what I wanted to do and research how to do it," said Severus, looking around with her. "It has been a while since I combined Arithmancy and Transfiguration in this manner. I added about 600 square feet to the cabin without changing the external features. You can see the space in here allowed me to create the bookshelves."

"Minerva would be most impressed," commented Hermione. "Did you enlarge the lab, too?"

"Considerably," answered Severus. Hermione detected a note of pride in his voice. "Would you like to see?"

"Oh, yes," she said, enthusiastically.

Severus led the way to the laboratory, which had been intended to be a bedroom.

"You've doubled your space in here."

"Yes. I was able to add the additional cabinets and a whole storage room at this end. The additional laboratory table will allow me to work on two-stage potions more efficiently."

"Very impressive," nodded Hermione.

"You can tell Minerva and Poppy that I will start making the infirmary's potions again, if you do not mind transporting the completed potions when they are done," said Severus.

"Poppy will be pleased. She's always preferred your quality and consistency. Minerva will be pleased because we've been paying premium rates for medicinal potions since you left. Horace is simply not up to making them for Poppy."

"I do not mind providing a discounted rate given the volume Hogwarts has always used. Now that I am not splitting my time between teaching, brewing, and spying, the preparation of routine potions is not the burden it used to be," he replied, giving the room another long look. He turned and looked down at Hermione. "I have beef stew that should be ready, if you are hungry?"

"So, that's what I smelled when we came into the cabin. It sounds good."

"So you beat Walter Dobrinsky this year?" asked Hermione as she speared a piece of carrot from her bowl of stew.

"Soundly," replied Severus as he buttered a slice of bread. "I came in third in Edmonton, I am planning to go to a number of amateur chess tournaments. I went to one in San Francisco last month. I spent the whole weekend and even attended a concert while I was there."

Hermione smiled at him. It was good to hear that he was getting away from the mountain more often.

"How are you doing it when you travel? Do you use a glamour?"

"Polyjuice," answered Severus, offering Hermione the butter dish. "Except for that first time I went to town, I use Polyjuice to disguise myself whenever I leave the mountain."

Hermione looked confused. "But who did you get the hair from?"

Severus leaned forward, dangling his fork loosely between his fingers, a smirk on his face.

"The manager of a particular western boot store in Luckenbach, Texas is still wondering where his ponytail went to."

Hermione burst into laughter. "I cannot imagine you looking like a cowboy."

"_I_ do not look like a cowboy. _He _looked like a cowboy."

"There has to be a story behind this. Please?" begged Hermione.

Severus' smirk never left his face.

"Not long after I arrived here, I realized that I needed to be able to leave the mountain without taking the risk of being recognized. Polyjuice is much more reliable than a glamour and given that I can brew it myself, it seemed the logical solution. Especially since I can be relied on to use it correctly." He raised an eyebrow at her.

"One little mistake and you pay for it the rest of your life," moaned Hermione, waving her hands in surrender.

"You did make such an interesting cat," teased Severus. "It took me two days of research and several evenings of brewing a series of potions to reverse the effect."

"Believe me," said Hermione shaking her head in dismay, "Now, I can tell the difference between cat and human hair. I'm just lucky Millicent Bulstrode never found out what I did. But, meanwhile, back in Luckenbach Texas…"

"Ah, yes," he continued. "You came to see me one month after I arrived. I believe I went to town once prior to that, using a glamour. I decided I needed something more reliable, so I started brewing the Polyjuice. It occurred to me that I could not use anyone local and preferably no one within at least a thousand miles in the unlikely case I might run into him somewhere. I looked at a map of the United States and decided that Texas was far enough away and if I made a careful choice that it would be unlikely I would encounter the donor again. Hence, the choice of Luckenbach."

Severus finished the last of his stew and accepted a cup of tea from Hermione.

"Getting there was an adventure. It has been a long time since I lived completely in the Muggle world. Since I had never Apparated in North America and had no means of establishing destinations for a Portkey, I drove the Land Rover the entire way. I had the chance to learn Muggle map reading, the Canadian and United States highway systems, my first experience with American fast food – which I do not care to repeat any time soon - checking into a hotel, and all the rest.

"Did you know that no two petrol stations have pumps that operate in the same way? It was, as they say, a crash course in Muggle survival. At least I did not have to do anything about my wardrobe since you supplied me with sufficient Muggle clothing. Between that and a glamour, I was unconcerned about being recognised."

Hermione rested her head on her chin and listened to Severus with an amused smile.

"Fawkes was with me the whole way," he added, taking a sip of his tea.

"How ever did you manage that?"

"I glamoured him to look like a parrot. I took the headrest off the back of the front seat on the passenger side and he perched there most of the way."

Hermione was rolling with laughter. The image of Fawkes perched inside the large cabin of a Land Rover, looking anxiously this way and that at the scenery would be captured in her mind forever.

"Most of the trip was via expressways through mountains, so the scenery was interesting. I found small quiet hotels to stay at and Fawkes would go out at night to hunt. It took six days to get there. My 'parrot' and I checked into another small hotel and I began to look around.

"As you know from personal experience, Polyjuicing into another form is an uncomfortable experience. Since I would be doing it every time I planned to leave the mountain, even for an errand, I decided to look for someone who was about the same height, weight, and relative bone size as me in order to minimize the discomfort.

"In the two days I was there, I identified a few suitable candidates as I visited assorted shops, taverns, and dining establishments. The manager of the western boot shop was the best match for height, weight, bone structure, and sufficient hair to last a while. The second best candidate had short hair and worked as a salesman in a car dealership. I would have had to shave his head to obtain enough hair and preferred not to risk attracting attention to my mission.

"That evening when the manager left the store, I stunned him, lopped off his ponytail, gave him an Obliviate, and sent him home. I should mention that in recompense, I did purchase two pairs of very expensive boots from his shop. Expensive boots I would not choose to be wearing were I to be found dead. I gave them to two homeless men in Boise Idaho."

Severus refilled Hermione's teacup.

"And so, when Stuart McMillan goes to town, he looks vaguely like me except he has rather tanned skin, long brown hair, and blue eyes. He dresses very differently than the shopkeeper in Luckenbach. I believe if I ran into someone who knew him, they would see a resemblance, but would not mistake me for him."

"Ingenious, Severus," remarked Hermione, beaming at him. "What a brilliant way to cover your identity and to learn your way around Muggle society at the same time."

"It worked," he replied. "Would you care to sit by the fire for a while?"

"It sounds pleasant," said Hermione. "Thank you for dinner. It was good."

"You are welcome."

Severus never accepted her offers to help with the dishes. Using a bit of magic, he usually made short work of the chore.

Hermione stopped on the way over to her favourite chair and picked up her rucksack and tote bag to make her regular deliveries. She sat in one of the deep cushioned chairs before the fireplace and made herself comfortable. As Severus tidied up the table, something occurred to her she had not considered before. She covered the disconcerted look on her face by busying herself with the tote bag.

Severus brought two mugs of tea and placed them on the table between their chairs. Fawkes flew over to his perch by the window, watching them instead of looking outdoors.

"Severus," said Hermione, "you said before that you never leave the mountain unglamoured or without a Polyjuiced appearance." Severus raised his dark head and met her eyes. "Am I the only one who ever sees your real appearance?"

"Yes," he answered simply.

Every once in a while, the impulsive Hermione Granger was capable of overcoming the more commonly known reserved Hermione Granger. This was one of those moments. She reached over and put her hand over his.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, "Sometimes I forget how alone you are here."

"There is no alternative," answered Severus in a quiet voice. He was looking at her eyes and did not remove his hand. Fawkes chose the moment to flap about boisterously and land on the back of Severus' chair. Hermione withdrew her hand and Severus reached up to scratch the gold and scarlet head.

Hermione pulled a newspaper out of her tote bag and handed it to Severus.

"I do believe you will find this interesting."

----------------------------------  
_Dolores Umbridge Sentenced  
__By Rita Skeeter_

_The former Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Head of the now defunct Muggle-Born Registration Commission was sentenced today to 272 years in Azkaban. Umbridge, who was better known as the Beast of Hogwarts by her students and Dolores the Toad by her colleagues at the Ministry, broke down and wept when she heard her sentence. She was taken from Courtroom Ten by Aurors who found it necessary to put their struggling prisoner in a Body Bind and hover her from the room. Her hysterical pleas for mercy and protests about the unfairness of her sentence were heard by members of the press two hallways away as she was released from the Bind in her holding cell. _

_Umbridge was found guilty on the charges of attempted genocide against Muggle-borns, conspiracy to commit soul murder through unapproved use of Dementors, giving false testimony under oath, and 132 charges of second degree child abuse. _

_On several occasions, Umbridge attributed her actions as Chief Inquisitor at Hogwarts to simply following former Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge's orders. Likewise, she blamed her actions as Head of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission on Pius Thicknesse, who was revealed to be The Dark Lord's puppet Minister of Magic. In a hearing before the Wizengamot last year, Thicknesse was found to be innocent of all charges, based on having been Imperiused and under the control of Death Eaters before he took office._

"_I was simply following the orders given to me by my duly appointed superiors," declared Umbridge during her trial. "It is the duty of any employee of the Ministry to implement not only the letter of their orders, but the spirit as well."_

_Cornelius Fudge, former Minister of Magic, is awaiting his own trial on charges of accepting bribes in exchange for political favours. This reporter contacted him for comment, which Fudge declined._

_Several days of testimony were offered by witnesses. Possibly the most influential and heart-rending testimony was offered by Hermione Granger, often referred to as The One Who Survived. The long-time friend of Harry Potter, the Chosen One, reported that the late hero of the Voldemort Wars was one of Umbridge's many victims among the students at Hogwarts._

"_Harry carried the scars from Umbridge's cutting quill to his grave," said Granger, looking at the accused. "She made him write the lines 'I will not tell lies'. Harry had been telling the truth about Voldemort's return, but Umbridge would have none of it. She had singled him out for her attention and did everything she could to persecute him."_

_Fortunately for the wizarding public, Umbridge kept detailed records of her activities as Chief Inquisitor and as Headmistress of Hogwarts. It has been determined that she was responsible for giving 132 students detentions where they were required to use an illegal cutting quill. Her 272- year sentence included one year for each student harmed. She will also be required to write ten lines with a cutting quill for every one line assigned to the students. Her daily rations will be cut in half for each day she fails to write her quota._

_Among those who testified about the true mission of the Muggle-born Registration Commission was Andromeda Tonks. Madam Tonks lost her Muggle-born husband when he fought the Snatchers. Madam Tonks also lost her daughter and son-in-law, both dying heroically during the Battle of Hogwarts, saving the lives of dozens of young children who were targeted by Death Eaters while trying to escape into the Forbidden Forrest. _

_Madam Tonks, holding the hand of her orphaned grandson, wept openly when she learned of the sentence. "It won't bring back my husband or any of the other spouses, parents, and loved ones who were murdered because of Dolores Umbridge. At least I can begin to have a sense of closure. Perhaps the wizarding world will finally learn something from this horrible experience about the damage caused by prejudice. Nothing will ever fix all of the lives that have been destroyed because of her."_

"_I cannot feel any sympathy for that vile woman," stated Professor Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, as she exited Courtroom Ten. "Umbridge's cruelty to those entrusted to her care and her complete lack of remorse for her actions can only lead one to believe that she deserves every single one of those 272 years. I am satisfied that she will never again walk free among decent wizards and witches."_

_Minister Shacklebolt issued a statement upon learning of the sentence. "I am satisfied that the Wizengamot has delivered justice in this case. Umbridge has demonstrated that she is the worst sort of individual formerly employed by the Ministry. She showed a clear pattern of using her position to further the Darkest of political agendas in order to garner power for herself. Let this sentence stand as an example to all that justice will be served to those who abuse the public trust. I believe that Harry Potter will rest a little easier, knowing that Dolores Umbridge will spend the rest of her days in Azkaban."_

_For more about Umbridge's reign of terror, please turn to page 6._

_For more about Andromeda Tonks and her family's service and sacrifice during the Dark Times, please turn to page 11._

_---------------------------------_

"Now that is what I call a fair sentence," announced Severus with a satisfied smirk. "It is frustrating to think that so little justice came out of the Wizengamot during Fudge's tenure as Minister. It is exceptionally satisfying to see that change with Shacklebolt. I knew I appreciated him for some reason."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "According to Arthur, he's gone a long way towards cleaning up corruption within the Ministry. He started with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. A few of the Aurors are doing time in Azkaban, right next to criminals they arrested. Harry had run-ins a few times with one named Dawlish. He was probably one of the worst and he was given a longer sentence than Lucius Malfoy."

"The Dark Lord's influence had spread far and wide during those last two years," remarked Severus. "There were certainly some who allied themselves with the Death Eaters because of threats to their families. There were others who actually believed all of the Dark Lord's Pure-blood propaganda."

Hermione was uncertain if she should take the chance of asking. Severus was generally very sensitive about talking of the things he had believed and done before he changed sides. Something must have shown on her face, because Severus answered without her asking the question.

"I was influenced by some of the propaganda that was going around Slytherin when I was a youngster. When you are fourteen years old and almost everyone around you believes something is true, it makes it difficult to disbelieve. However, it was at odds with my personal experience of Muggle-borns and I had my doubts. After a few years of teaching and seeing that circumstance of birth had no impact at all on magical talent or intelligence, I disposed of such notions entirely."

"Harry said that you knew his mother before you ever came to Hogwarts," remarked Hermione.

"We were good friends," said Severus, picking up his mug of tea and turning it about in his hands. "We were raised in the same general neighbourhood. I saw her do accidental magic and knew that she was a witch. That made us natural allies, given there were no other magical children in the area."

Severus paused, took a sip of his tea and sat up very straight in his chair. Hermione recognized the signal that he had said all he cared to on the topic.

"The Aurors caught Dolohov last month," Hermione reported. "It seems that when he managed to escape from Hogwarts after the battle, he hid by living in a distant cousin's cellar. He couldn't find a way out of the country."

"Sixteen down and eight to go," replied Severus, still looking off into the distance. He kept careful count of the known Death Eaters who had escaped the day of Voldemort's demise.

"When they catch them all, will you feel free to become yourself again?"

"My situation is different than yours," replied Severus, a touch of bitterness in his voice. "Even if all the Death Eaters were gone, you would still need to avoid overenthusiastic fans. I, on the other hand, need to avoid people who would like to seek revenge for the death of Albus Dumbledore and my general association with the Death Eaters."

"But perhaps not everywhere?" suggested Hermione. "You could safely visit Hogwarts. The staff would be pleased to see you again, as would Arthur and Molly. Your fellow teachers know what a risk you took trying to protect them and the students from the Carrows and the Dark Lord."

Hermione examined Severus' expression. He was keeping it neutral, which invariably meant he was seething with emotions of some sort. "Minerva would very much like to see you. I know there's something in her letter about Christmas Day. Most of the staff will be gone and very few of the students will remain over the holiday. You could come and go without being seen."

"I do not think it would be wise," answered Severus, sounding very final.

"It's three months away. Please think about it. If you change your mind, Minerva would like to see you. I would, too. Fawkes might even enjoy a visit."

Severus did not answer.

Hermione covered the uncomfortable moment by pulling letters out of her tote bag.

"I have your mail delivery here. In addition to the usual letters, there are a few from the Ministry. I checked them and Filius double-checked them to make certain there are no tracer charms or hexes attached to them." Hermione looked back up at Severus. "As you requested, Minerva and I have gone through the mail from unknown sources or from people not on your list of acceptable correspondents. We turned over anything threatening to the Aurors.

"There is one here that we did not open, but we checked thoroughly. He's not on the list and it came within another envelope that had the standard letter from the warden at Azkaban. If you don't want to receive any further mail from him, we need only return the letter and he will be forbidden to write you again." She held out the envelope to Severus. "It was already read by the censors at Azkaban, so we didn't read it. I didn't think you would want us to."

Severus looked at the envelope. Another envelope with handwriting he recognized from having graded more than six years of the author's essays. He took it from Hermione.

"Draco."

"He's written me twice," said Hermione. "I've written him back."

"He has three years left on his sentence," murmured Severus.

"May I tell you about my correspondence with him?"

Severus looked up at her. The furrows in his brow spoke of pain.

"He's very lonely. Azkaban is bad enough, but he is in solitary all the time because of the other Death Eaters. He wouldn't last a day in the general population, even with his father's influence. The other prisoners accept Lucius, but Draco is viewed as a traitor because of the whole business with the Elder Wand. There's no one for him to write to and he's not allowed visitors as a part of his sentence. He had to be lonely to write me. He couldn't stand me in school."

"I will read this later," said Severus.

"I think he would like that very much." Hermione brightened up and turned to cheerier topics. "Here's Bill's report for you and I think he included a photo of young Fred."

"And how is your godson coming along?"

"Growing like a weed," replied Hermione, "but a rather fussy baby who insists on being walked constantly. I suspect he'll be on a broom as soon as he develops the coordination to use both hands for holding on. I actually feel sorry for Fleur."

Severus held up the photo. Bill was holding Fred up for the camera with Fleur standing behind him waving. Fred was sucking ferociously on his little fist.

Hermione laughed. "He's just like his Uncle Ron, that one. His thumb isn't enough; he's got to fill his whole mouth. Fleur will have her hands full teaching him table manners."

"He looks like his father," remarked Severus. "He certainly has a headful of Weasley hair."

"He does," commented Hermione. "His grandparents are around constantly. Bill is already talking to Charlie and George about their familial duty to marry and repopulate the wizarding world before his mother spoils Fred completely."

"Would you have married him?" asked Severus in his deceptively disinterested way, sorting through the letters.

Hermione was surprised by the question. Severus never talked about Ron, Harry, or Dumbledore. She shook her head.

"I honestly don't think so. I loved him as a teenaged girl who had doubts about surviving the war. In the face of that, I ignored how different we were. We wouldn't have had a happy marriage over the long run. We wanted very different things out of life and would have stifled each other. I don't regret our relationship, though. It gave us both something to hold onto in very difficult circumstances, especially for Ron's sake, given the way things turned out."

"I did wonder what you saw in him," pondered Severus. "I thought you and Potter had more in common."

"We probably did," chuckled Hermione, "I wouldn't have married him either. He was very in love with Ginny Weasley that last year. I do think they might have ended up together." The sadness came back into her voice. "So many lost opportunities."

"Indeed," murmured Severus, putting down the mail, "on both sides."

Both were lost in memories for a moment, thinking of friends gone for more than three years.

"Actually," said Hermione, "this brings me to a favour I would like to ask of you."

Severus was surprised. In all the time Hermione had been his Secret Keeper and sole visitor to the mountain cabin, she had never asked for a favour beyond occasionally asking him to fix spaghetti with his special pasta sauce. She picked up the rucksack and pulled out two boxes to be enlarged, both containing potions ingredients and other items he had asked her to purchase for him. The next thing was a thick manila envelope.

"I started on this during the spring," she said. "I finished my senior apprentice's project early and really didn't have anything special to work on and the certification examination wasn't scheduled until June. It began one evening when Filius started talking about things he did during the Grindelwald War. Minerva had a few glasses of wine in her and started adding to his stories from what she remembered. Before long, Poppy was talking. I began writing down their stories. They did so much and it didn't seem right that no one really knew about it from their perspective.

"After that evening, I interviewed each of them very extensively about their participation in the war. I thought I might write an article about it for the Journal of Magical History. Then Filius suggested a few more people to talk to and it just grew from there. I think there might be a book in this."

Hermione enlarged the envelope to its natural size. She opened it up and withdrew a four- inch thick stack of parchment, tied with a blue string.

"It isn't finished by any means. I think I might have about one third of it done and there are a good many more people I want to interview on both sides of the war. I was hoping I could impose upon you to read it and give me feedback about it, if it's worth reading or not before I go any further."

Severus held out his hand and accepted the stack of parchment. He looked at the first page beneath the string and read the title.

_Memories of War  
The Grindelwald War_

"If you're willing to read it, I really want your honest opinion. If my writing is terrible or this isn't interesting, I want to know. Otherwise, I could end up doing a lot of work and sending it off to a publishing company and, well…." Hermione was rambling with nervousness. "They'd probably publish anything written by Saint Hermione, no matter how bad it was. I'd be humiliated if they did that."

She looked at Severus and bit her lower lip. "You'd never hesitate to tell me if any of my essays were poorly written. You'd tell me the truth if this deserves a failing grade."

Severus smiled at her nervousness.

"I will be pleased to read it and I probably have a bottle of red ink somewhere in my desk."

"Thank you," said Hermione with a sigh of relief.

"Perhaps you could return in two weeks. I will have it read by then and will tell you what I think. It will also give me a chance to write Draco."

Hermione leaned back in the chair, very pleased with the results of this visit.

"I'll be back in two weeks."


	6. Chapter 6

It's true that I haven't updated this story since 2007. I put it on hold to work on _Looking for Magic_. There are reasons why I am back working on _Memories of War_ and have put _Looking for Magic_ on hold. I have explained this on my profile page. Thank you all for your patience and support. If you haven't already read it, you might want to take a look at _Obsession_, a one-shot set in the _Memories of War_ universe.

Thank you to the kind and generous Annie Talbot for helping me whip this chapter into shape. She's one of the adminstrators at On-Line Wizarding Library and has mentored more authors than I have fingers and toes.

* * *

November, 2002

"Permanent Transfiguration of objects readily occurs when the source object and the destination object are of similar materials. For example, one can change an oak chair into an oak table and it will remain that way until Transfigured back. An oak chair can be Transfigured into a walnut table and will remain that way until Transfigured back. An oak chair can be Transfigured into a steel chair and can remain that way for months, but it will ultimately transform itself back into its original material unless special charms are used. The next section we are going to study will add permanence to your Transfigurations of non-living objects into dramatically different materials."

Hermione stood at the front of the class. Fifth year Transfiguration class was moving into the kind of Transfiguration generally used by wizarding architects in making permanent changes to buildings. Before they were done, the class would incorporate basic Arithmancy and complex charms into Transfiguration.

There was a noise at the back of the classroom. It appeared that Mr. Flynn was attempting to entertain Miss Wickham by levitating Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans one at a time into her mouth. One of the beans dropped and hit the wood floor with a surprisingly loud _ping_.

"Mr. Flynn, that will be twenty points from Hufflepuff. Miss Wickham, that will be twenty points from Ravenclaw. I believe both of you plan to write essays for me on the proper time and place for courting behaviors?"

Flynn turned bright red and Wickham chewed furiously to dispose of the evidence. Hermione turned her back to the class for a moment to walk back up to the podium. It also served to hide the amused grin on her face.

* * *

"Baron?" called Hermione as she stood outside of the entranceway to the Slytherin common room. It was in an alcove in the dungeons beside the statue of Merriwyn the Giddy.

"Hello, Professor Granger," said Merriwyn. Her voice was surprisingly high pitched and squeaky for a marble statue. Hermione had always thought marble statues should have deeper voices.

"Good afternoon, Merriwyn," replied Hermione. "I'm looking for the Baron. Have you seen him recently?"

"He left a message that he would meet you in your quarters," said Merriwyn. "He was summoned to roust Peeves out of the library before Madame Pince keels over and becomes a ghost herself."

"I hope the Baron is successful with Peeves," said Hermione, shaking her head. "He'd better not damage anything in library or I'll take after him, too."

"So disrespectful, he is," agreed Merriwyn.

Hermione turned back down the hallway and hurried in the general direction of Gryffindor Tower. Bill and Fleur's apartment was located just outside of the tower with the entrance behind a tapestry of St. George slaying the dragon. She knocked on the door, waiting until a rather tense looking Fleur answered and invited her in.

Gone was the fashion-plated, flirtatious Fleur who dated the dashingly handsome Bill Weasley. In her place was a harried looking mother of a little boy who was incapable of walking.

Young Fred Weasley had two speeds - running and running as fast as his chubby little legs would carry him. Fleur and Bill had to charm the furniture and walls with cushioning charms to keep little Fred from continually running into things and banging up his head. He was also very fond of climbing and could wiggle his way up onto the back of the sofa or a chair with lightning speed.

No one was ever able to explain how he got up to the third shelf of the bookcase where Bill found him sitting, merrily ripping pages out of a Latin dictionary.

As soon as Hermione walked into the sitting room, she was tackled about the legs by a very excited little boy, calling, 'Mee Mee'. She wasn't sure how she had become 'Mee Mee', but if Minerva could be called 'Lala'….

Hermione caught Fred under his arms and hoisted him up. He greeted her with a very sloppy baby kiss. That was his latest trick. Everyone who got within reaching distance of Fred was getting slobber kisses. Even Crookshanks had learned to keep his distance.

"Goodness, Fred. You are getting so big," said Hermione as she bounced him up and down a few times, accompanied by his excited giggles. She smiled and looked at him fondly. She looked sympathetically at Fleur. "You look worn out." She didn't feel it necessary to add that she had what looked like food stains on front of the t-shirt she wore.

"I think zat my son has already learned to Apparate," she replied. "I put him in his crib for a nap, turned my back, and here he is." Fleur pushed a hank of her blonde hair back off her forehead. "I am going to charm restraints into ze crib if he does not settle down."

"You are the little climber, aren't you?" laughed Hermione. "Shall I put him back down for you?"

"Go right ahead," said Fleur as she flopped gracelessly down onto the sofa. "I would be infinitely grateful if you could get him to stay in zere."

Hermione carried Fred back into his bedroom. She went to put him down in his crib when he said "No, no, no. Up!"

She couldn't help but chuckle. "You are as hard-headed and as full of mischief as your Uncle Fred ever was."

Hermione picked up Fred's favorite stuffed toy niffler, the one she knew he liked to sleep with. She sat down with him in the rocking chair. He hugged the niffler and sucked on his thumb as Hermione rocked him. She noticed Fleur peeking in on the two of them. About fifteen minutes later, Fred was asleep. Hermione carried him over to his crib and tucked him in.

"You are a life saver, Hermione," said Fleur. "I was considering running away from home when you got here."

"I don't see where you get the energy to keep up with him," said Hermione.

"Zat is exactly it. I don't have ze energy to keep up with him," she groaned. "Baby Weasleys should come with warning labels."

"I have no idea where Molly ever had it in her to raise all those boys, especially the twins."

"If it were me, I would drink. Thank goodness Bill has no illusions about ze size of our family," retorted Fleur as the two of them sat down on the sofa. "Did you receive ze wedding invitation?"

"Yes," replied Hermione. "I'm glad Percy and his family are getting along again."

"And are you going to bring a date?"

"That would be awkward," said Hermione shaking her head. "I'm Ron's widow as far as Molly and Arthur are concerned. It might upset Molly, and I don't want to ruin the day for her."

"You live like a nun,"

"Well, look around, Fleur," laughed Hermione. "You got the last good one."

"I did, didn't I?" said Fleur, joining in with the laughter. "What about Oliver Wood?"

"We went out twice and he sold the story of our two dates to _Witch Weekly_," replied Hermione, very annoyed. "At least he didn't imply we were intimate. That time I went out with that attaché from the German Ministry of Magic, he bragged that we were, and I can guarantee he didn't get past a grope before I ended the date. Right now, with everything else I'm doing, I just don't want to be bothered with any nonsense."

"Once your book comes out, it won't be any easier, Hermione," said Fleur, shaking her blonde hair. "Ze men won't get any less complicated to figure out."

"It would be a lot easier if I didn't have the press hounding me and anyone I date for the sordid details," she groaned. "Or that people didn't expect Saint Hermione to live in perpetual mourning for a boyfriend who died when I was nineteen. Two dates with Oliver, an article in _Witch Weekly_, and I was bombarded with howlers at breakfast. I didn't have sex with him, I had drinks and dinner, and got accused of being unfaithful to the memory of a boy I wasn't even married to."

Hermione got up and paced with frustration. "I can't date anyone I didn't know before 1998 without wondering if he's a gold digger or a groupie."

"You really are living like a nun, aren't you?" asked Fleur, curious.

Before Hermione could answer, there was a clatter at the doorway as Bill stumbled over Fred's building blocks. He made a surprisingly graceful recovery and strode across the room.

"Hello, ladies," he said as he gave Fleur a quick kiss on the temple and scanned the floor for more blocks and one toddler. "Freddie down for a nap?"

"If he wasn't, he would have tackled you by now," teased Hermione.

"Your son is going to turn my hair white," complained Fleur.

"On you, it would look good," said Bill, flirting. "So, Mee Mee, did you get your wedding invitation?"

"Yes, I did."

"And did you note the date of the wedding is set for two weeks after the big premiere of your book?"

"He wouldn't."

"Oh, yes. He certainly would," retorted Bill. "This is Percy we're talking about."

"But Bill, he couldn't have known about the big party the publisher is putting on for the release of the book before he set the wedding date. Only my publisher would have that information."

"And you think that Minister Shacklebolt's Personal Assistant couldn't have found that out?"

There's something about the way that Fleur says 'shit' in her French accent that makes it sound so funny.

Hermione scowled at Bill. "So, you think that Percy deliberately set the date for the wedding two weeks after the release of my book so he could get more attention for his wedding because I'm going to be there?"

"Sounds just like my brother to me," said Bill.

"Sounds just a little desperate to me," retorted Hermione.

"And your point would be?" questioned Bill, quirking a scarred eyebrow. "And onto question two. Who are you bringing as your date?"

"Oh, Bill. You know it would hurt your mother if I brought a date," moaned Hermione. "She'd see it as disloyalty to Ron's memory. I don't want to hurt her on what should be a happy occasion."

"Hermione, there's never going to be a right time for you to let my mother see that you have moved on with your life," said Bill, shaking his head. "You weren't Ron's wife; she hasn't the right to make you his widow. And even if you were, it's been four years and you're twenty-three years old. Don't bury yourself with him. I honestly don't think he would want you to do that."

Guilt and a desire to be free warred in Hermione's head. Her two friends could see the indecision on her face.

"Why don't you let me fix you up with someone?" offered Bill. "I've got some interesting friends from when I worked at Gringott's. I promise, no goblins."

"It's just a date, Hermione," said Fleur encouragingly. "Bill and I will get together with Molly and Arthur ahead of time and tell zem you are bringing a date. It will let Molly get her emotional reaction done first so she can move on, too."

"I'll think about it," responded Hermione. "I promise, I really will." She looked at her pocket watch. "I have to get going."

"I've got the report from St. Mungo's for you to give Snape," said Bill. "His refinements on the potion are helping, especially for the women. Who knew that working out potioning issues with near-werewolf syndrome and menstrual cycle in women who normally have PMS could be so complicated?"

Bill took a file folder off his desk and handed it to Hermione.

"Given that the women were getting so aggressive, sooner or later someone was going to get hurt," said Hermione. "As soon as he realized that, he made it a priority to come up with a women's formulation."

"Damn Greyback set werebeing relations back a hundred years," muttered Bill.

Hermione gave Bill a quick hug and was waved off by Fleur, who didn't want to get food stains on Hermione.

"Give him our best and let him know we'd like to see him at Christmas. If he comes, we'll leave Mum and Dad's early," said Bill. "We want him to feel welcome."

"I will let him know."

* * *

Catching up with the Baron had taken some extra time. Peeves had invaded the periodicals stacks and was flinging journals all over the library. Madame Pince hyperventilated and had to be given a calming draught.

The Baron grabbed Peeves by the scruff of the neck and tossed him into an unused portion of the dungeons with orders to stay there until the Baron told him he could come out. Professor Slughorn didn't appreciate it, because Peeves would come his way as soon as he was turned loose. Peeves just didn't fear Professor Slughorn the way he had Professor Snape.

The Baron was pleased to have a quiet interlude after all the excitement. He hovered six inches above a chair in Hermione's sitting room while she took his dictation. For a man who had been dead for over four hundred years, he had a lively interest in the current political situation. Hermione had written editorial letters on his behalf to both the _Daily Prophet,_ and the _Wizarding World Times_. After the Baron was done, he told her he would meet her at the door and escort her to the gates.

Hermione packed the rucksack with potions ingredients and books and put the mail and periodicals into the tote bag. It would be cold in the mountains, so Hermione dressed in wool slacks and a heavy jumper over a turtleneck top. She pulled on her boots and down coat and headed for the gates. The Baron walked her to the perimeter of the wards as he always did and bade her give the good professor his best.

Hermione arrived at Severus' cabin a little before noon. She knew her arrival would trigger the wards and Severus would be waiting for her. If there was snow, he would usually meet her halfway. Today, there was only an inch of snow on the ground. She trudged her way up the familiar path to the cabin. She hoped today's lunch would be spaghetti.

Severus opened the door to the cabin before she had a chance to knock. He was holding a wet flannel to his right eye.

"You arrived just in time," grumbled Severus. "How are your healing charms?"

"Good enough for first aid," replied Hermione, craning her neck and attempting to peer around the flannel. "What happened?"

"I was out in the greenhouse tending to the mandrakes and one pitched a stone at me. I believe I shall have a black eye."

Hermione set her totes down in the entryway and took off her coat, hanging it on the clothes tree.

"Well, let's go into the kitchen and have a look," she said.

Hermione took Severus' elbow and walked him into the kitchen. She sat him down on a chair and he took the flannel away from his eye. It was reddened and swollen and looked like a prime candidate for a shiner. Hermione took her wand and cast a quick diagnostic spell.

"Just checking to make sure you don't have any significant injuries to your eye or the eye socket." Hermione looked carefully at the shining runes forming around Severus' face and smiled. "Very good, just bruising."

Severus looked up at her, a decidedly grumpy look on his face.

"Dratted mandrake was faster than I was. I really dislike them when they are at the teenager phase. All poor attitude combined with good coordination, not unlike many of their human counterparts." Severus was in a cranky mood.

"You're just out of practice in dealing with teenagers," observed Hermione. "Do you prefer a charm or bruise ointment?"

"Both, if you please," he asked.

Hermione said a few words and did a bit of wand waving. Most of the redness and puffiness disappeared. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Hermione did another diagnostic spell.

"I thought so," she murmured.

"You thought what?" asked Severus.

"You need eyeglasses for close work." Hermione smiled down at him and she touched his eyebrow. "How does that feel?"

"Better. To think I used to be Crucioed by Voldemort and just got up, shook it off, and Apparated back to Hogwarts."

"Why do I have doubts that it was ever as simple as you describe?" teased Hermione. "Is the bruise ointment in the medicine chest in the bathroom?"

"Yes," he replied.

Hermione went to the bathroom and opened the medicine chest. Rummaging a bit through tooth powder, pain relieving potions, and headache remedies, she found the bruise ointment and went back to the kitchen.

She stood in front of Severus and uncapped the jar. She reached under his chin and gently tilted his head back. He closed his eyes as she touched him. Hermione gently stroked the bruise ointment on his eyebrow; part of the lid, and under the eye. After a moment's hesitation, she finished it off by giving him a quick kiss on the forehead. Startled, Severus opened his eyes and looked at her questioningly.

"To speed up the healing," she smiled. "I had it on good authority from my mother that it always works."

"Hmph," he replied, gruffly. "Far be it from me to debate the teachings of your mother."

"Which brings us back to the question of your needing glasses," lectured Hermione. "Maybe that's why the mandrake was able to nail you if you aren't seeing clearly close up."

"IhaveapairofglassesIjustwasn'twearingthem," said Severus doing his best to change the subject.

"Why ever not?"

"I do not like them," he retorted. "I only wear them when I read."

"Where are they?" asked Hermione. She started looking around, feeling her inherent nosiness taking over.

"That is none of your concern," snapped Severus.

"You did all that reading and editing for me on _Memories of War_. I hate to think you gave yourself eye strain because you are too stubborn to wear the eyeglasses you need." Hermione kept looking. She spotted an eyeglass case on the desk. It was long and narrow. She kept the smile off her face when she realized why Severus didn't wear them today. He didn't want her to see him wearing them. He certainly didn't want to look like Albus Dumbledore.

"You bought reading glasses off of the rack at the pharmacy in town, didn't you? Since you won't go to a wizarding healer, then go to a Muggle optometrist. Get a full sized frame rather than those half glasses. If you don't need them for distance, they can make the lenses with plain glass and a bifocal for reading and close-up work. I'll show you."

Hermione got up and went to fetch her tote bag. She fished around in it for a minute and pulled out an eyeglass case. Taking out the eyeglasses, she put them on and showed Severus. The glasses had a gold tone wire frame and an oval shape. "See what I mean? You can't even tell where the bifocal is and it looks a lot better than the half moon glasses."

She took them off and handed them to Severus to look at. "I got them two months ago when I found I was getting headaches from reading. Now I don't and I don't have to walk around when I teach with those half glasses sliding down my nose all the time. The key is to go to a Muggle optometrist rather than buying something off the rack at a store. You'll get a good eye examination and they'll fit them to you. You'll be much more satisfied with what you get."

Severus held her eyeglasses at different angles to look at them. He peered through them and looked at her questioningly.

"I know they're a women's style, but I'm not a Transfigurations Mistress for nothing. Go ahead and put them on," Hermione instructed. Severus complied and Hermione went to work. In moments, the frames and lenses were larger and more squared. Another wand wave and the frames turned a silver colour. They definitely looked masculine. She reached into the tote bag and pulled out a powder compact. She enlarged it and held the mirror in front of him. He turned his head and looked at his reflection.

"This is…. better," he murmured.

"Can you read with them?" Hermione asked. She rummaged into her tote bag again and pulled out a package wrapped in green silk. "Try this," she said as she handed it to him.

Severus smiled at her, one of his rare warm smiles, as he realized what he was holding. He carefully untied the silver ribbon and the silk fell to the floor. There on the green leather cover were the words engraved in gold.

_Memories of War  
__The Grindelwald War_

_By Hermione J. Granger, T.M._

"I can read this quite clearly," said Severus. He opened the book and began to page through. He found the dedications page.

_For those who did not come home from war_

The look on his face told Hermione that Severus understood the layers of meanings in those words.

"You wouldn't let me list you in the acknowledgements," said Hermione softly.

He shook his head at her, as if he did not trust himself to respond. Severus turned a few more pages.

"I shall enjoy reading this again, from cover to cover. An advance copy, I presume?"

"There are a few going out to historians and book critics for commentary. The publisher says I can expect reviews to come out the day of publication." Hermione grimaced. "I think it's the price of fame and all that."

"The book has a good deal of merit, whether you are personally famous or not," he replied.

Severus closed the book and took off the eyeglasses and handed them back to Hermione. "I will take your advice and seek out a Muggle optometrist. I would prefer comfortable eyeglasses to the ones I have now."

Hermione accepted her eyeglasses back and reversed her Transfiguration. She put her eyeglasses on and sat at the table across from Severus.

"I believe I promised you lunch," he said, rising from the chair. "I have fresh salmon, new potatoes, and fresh green beans just picked this morning in the greenhouse, before I was rudely interrupted by the mandrakes."

Severus opened a cold storage cabinet, pulled out bowls of small red potatoes and green beans. The latter was poured into a steamer and the former into a pot with water. Hermione enjoyed the now familiar sight of Severus puttering in his kitchen, most of his cooking done in the Muggle style. He did use a bit of magic to melt the butter before mixing in the fresh dill.

Hermione launched into her regular routine of filling Severus in on the lives of people he knew.

"Hestia Jones is going to buy Sirius Black's home at Grimmauld Place," she said.

"I am surprised anyone from the Order would want to buy that mouldering wreck," he commented.

"She and her husband have taken to buying mouldering wrecks and rehabilitating them," she explained. "They sell them to wizarding families and make a profit."

"They have taken on quite a project," said Severus, one eyebrow raised. "The Dark magic and overall negativity in that house will take a lot of work to remove or neutralize." He looked at her curiously. "Who owns the house, now?"

"Ginny Weasley," replied Hermione. "She doesn't want the house and it has sat empty ever since the Order stopped using it."

"Potter left it to her in his will?" asked Severus.

Hermione was going into territory still painful after four years.

"Yes," she said. "Well, not exactly in his will since he didn't have one. He told me what he wanted and I put the memory in a Pensieve for the Wizengamot. They accepted it in lieu of a will."

"When did he tell you?" asked Severus quietly.

"A few days before that last confrontation," answered Hermione, looking away.

Severus lifted his hand. Hermione could see that he was stopping himself from touching the purpled scar that showed on his neck above the collar of his shirt. He was hesitating and then said something that surprised her.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Hermione paused, conflicted. Severus was the one most likely to understand. But would he? Would anyone? She wasn't ready to find out.

"Perhaps some time," she answered. "Not today." She cleared her throat and changed the subject. "Percy Weasley is getting married. He and Penelope Clearwater will be getting married two weeks after the book comes out."

"Ah. So the Assistant to the Minister of Magic has set his wedding day to get the most attention possible?" Severus accepted her change of subject.

"Do you think so?" asked Hermione. "Bill and Fleur think that, too."

"Certainly," commented Severus, taking the beans out of the steamer and putting them in a magically warmed dish. Hermione took dishes out of the cupboard and began setting the table.

"Mr. Weasley is ambitious to the point I wonder how it is he was not placed in Slytherin," remarked Severus. "He would like publicity and inviting you is an obvious way to get it. Inviting you for a date two weeks after the celebrated release of your awaited book guarantees there will be media coverage of the wedding."

"I'll never understand it," sighed Hermione. "Let them worship Harry and Ron all they want. I just wish they'd forget about me."

"It is more likely hell will freeze over first," replied Severus with a smirk.

"Speaking of Percy, I was considering using the wedding invitation to put a little pressure on him to get me in to see Draco," she said thoughtfully. "It might be just the leverage I need to get in the door."

"Excellent idea," commented Severus, handing Hermione the bowl of potatoes, glistening with a mixture of melted butter, lemon juice, and parsley. "I do not trust the jailors at Azkaban, having firsthand experience of them myself. Draco's letters are censored and so he would not dare express any complaints. If you can get a face-to-face meeting, you can better assess the conditions he is living in."

"Madam Malfoy hasn't had any luck in getting the Wizengamot to bend on their no visitors policy. I've spoken to her about it. Once I twist enough arms to get inside Azkaban, I have a list of things I want to do. I'm going to press to be allowed to bring him books. If it looks like his clothing is inadequate, I'll send him clothes," added Hermione as she accepted the platter of broiled salmon in dill sauce. She felt guilty as she looked at meal in front of her.

"I wish there was a way they'd allow me to bring him food. They won't allow Madam Malfoy to do anything for him. I think it's a leftover resentment from the way Lucius Malfoy used to be able to get special consideration when he was in Azkaban after the raid on the Ministry. Neither he nor Draco are getting any special consideration now."

"Whatever Draco needs, I will pay for," said Severus, taking the beans out of the steamer. "I know that the Ministry confiscated Malfoy Manor and much of their fortune for reparations to families who lost loved ones."

Hermione nodded. She understood Severus' need to provide something for Draco, given that he could not personally intervene in any way.

Severus came to the table, carrying a bottle of Chardonnay and two wine glasses. He magically removed the cork and poured a glass for each of them. Raising his glass, he offered a toast.

"To the author."

Hermione smiled at him and her whole face lit up. How far the two of them had come in four years. At the beginning he could barely restrain his hostility towards the sole survivor of the trio of students who had plagued him for six years at Hogwarts. Now, they could sit and have interesting conversations, enjoy a glass of wine, and share an excellent meal. Severus Snape had gone from semi-respected, semi-despised teacher and enemy Death Eater to a very good friend. For a moment, the feelings of affection were overwhelming. When had she come to rely on this man so much?

Hermione clinked her glass against his and took a sip.

They sat quietly companionable, enjoying their meal for a few minutes.

"Have you started on the next book, yet?" asked Severus.

"How did you guess?" chuckled Hermione.

"You enjoyed writing the first one so much, it does not require a Legilimens to figure it out." Severus refilled her glass. "My only uncertainty is if you are working on the Rasputin War or the First Voldemort War."

"I thought I would start on the First Voldemort War. I've established so many contacts through writing about the Grindelwald War who were also involved in the First Voldemort War. I think it's a natural progression from one to the next. There were very few people involved with Grindelwald who were also in on the Rasputin War; I'd be starting from scratch again."

"Very sensible," replied Severus.

Hermione looked at him probingly.

"Will you edit for me again? My book is so much better for your input. The idea of interviewing the ghosts added a lot to the book, especially when the Baron found out that Grindelwald's sister was haunting Mausburg Schloss. Your suggestions about combining chapters and telling the stories from both points of view really made the book."

"I would be pleased to edit your work for you. It is a fascinating project." Severus frowned. "You do understand that the pain from the first Voldemort War is recent enough that you might have some difficulty getting interviews with some people, to say nothing of the fact that most of the people involved on Voldemort's side are dead or in prison. The ones who are not will not admit to their involvement."

"I realise that," said Hermione. "It's one of the reasons I'd like access to Azkaban. Along with helping Draco, I might be able to interview Rudolphus Lestrange, Dolohov, and some of the others. They might be so grateful for someone to talk to, they'll open up."

"Dolohov is more likely to talk than Lestrange. Whatever you do, do not interview McNair without a guard present. The man is a sexual predator."

"I imagine a guard will be present at any interviews I conduct at Azkaban," assured Hermione. "It means I probably won't get any confessions from anyone about things we don't already know. As for the book, I thought a good strategy would be to get a description of an event from the point of view of someone from the Order. Then, I would go to Azkaban and get the point of view of a Death Eater involved at the time."

"That is a good strategy and might encourage disclosure." Severus swirled his wine in his glass. "I will begin outlining what I remember from those days. That should give you a structure to start from."

"Thank you, Severus," said Hermione, reaching over to touch his hand. "I know this isn't easy for you."

Severus' eyes were unreadable. "The time will come when I will wish to return to the wizarding world and live under my own name and face. To have my role in both Voldemort Wars better understood will make it more feasible for me to do so in peace." Severus took Hermione's small hand and wrapped his large one around it. "You understand the day will come when you will need to do the same. You will not find peace until you do."

Hermione nodded.

* * *

Author's note

I have changed the Baron's personal history considerably from how it is portrayed in Deathly Hallows. I think my version is much more interesting, as you'll see in future chapters.


End file.
